Fallen Angel
by DylantheRabbit
Summary: She may be the Mistress of Death but she's still Fate's bitch. A God-like powerful FemHarry goes back to fix the mistakes of the past and maybe find some peace of mind. Dark and hopefully humorous. Rated M for blood, coarse language and scenes of a sexual nature. FemHarry and Femslash.
1. Chapter 1

**A strange idea that came to me after reading a selection of darkish, time-travel fics and then a discussion with one of my favourite people, FateRogue. Following this chat, they very generously allowed me to their fabulous OC, Carina Black, if I promised not to damage her too badly.**

 **She is my all time favourite OC from two of my all time favourite fics, 'The Blackest of Souls' and it's sort of sequel, 'Finding the Light'. If you want to understand the background behind her then do go and read those works. I think that they are well worth the time spent on them but I have been told that I am rather strange. Many times.**

 **Unlike a great deal of my writing, this is all planned out and a lot of it is already written but I'm going to upload a chapter every Sunday to give you all something regular to read while I struggle on with my other projects and their far less predictable updates. It's not going to be huge, maybe 50 to 60k words and it is going to be both Dark and humorous. Well humorous to me, anyway. See above.** _ **Very**_ **strange.**

 **I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.**

 **Dylan the Rabbit. xx**

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 **Fallen Angel.**

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 **1\. An Angel Falls.**

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The Angel of Death.

That's what they call me now.

I had another name once. Several actually; The girl who lived ... the woman who won ... Champion of the Light ... Warmage of the Order of Nephilim ... Lady Protectress of the Magical United Kingdom ... The Defiler. Oh yes, and one more; Marigold Lily Potter.

I was a heroine, beloved of my people. For a brief while, anyway.

I saw an interesting muggle movie once where the hero, or perhaps anti-hero might be a better description, said that being such a hero can only end one of two ways. You either die young enough that you never really live, or you live long enough that you become the very thing that you fought so hard against ... the villain.

I'm paraphrasing of course, but that's what he meant.

It remains the truest thing that I have ever heard. I should know because it happened to me.

I spent thirty years of my life fighting Dark Lords (Voldemort was only the first) and bringing them to justice, sacrificing my relationships with my family, my friends, my lovers ... and for what? So that the very people that I had saved, sacrificed my _life_ for and shielded from the darkness and the horror all those years could turn around and call me, _me_ , the worst Dark Lady in a millennium.

Ungrateful bastards.

Ungrateful bastards who started a Worldwide Magical war to ensure that my stain should be removed from their 'perfect' existence. The fact that this perfect existence of theirs wouldn't have been possible without my sacrifices didn't seem to factor into this decision at all. So, we went to war. The entire Magical World against the Angel of Death.

They had thought it was going to be a very one sided affair. And they were right. Not in the way that they thought perhaps, but still, they were right. I wiped the fucking floor with them.

.

It had started simply enough, with a photograph.

By that point my magic was so strong that I could actually tear other beings apart at the molecular level with the merest wave of my hand. It was this kind of magic that the reporter photographed me using against the Dark Lord Cerbero and his deluded followers.

It probably didn't help that I was hovering six feet off of the ground, being held aloft on my black feathered wings that had emerged from my back, while I cast this unknown (but clearly Dark) magic at them with the legendary 'Deathstick'. Or that I had a fucking great onyx sword in my other hand that I was swinging around to decapitate any stragglers without the slightest hesitation, mercy or respite.

The entire World saw me then as I looked when transformed for battle. A dark and powerful mixture of Hecate, Lucifer and an extremely expensive stripper.

Apparently, it scared the shit out of them.

Rituals are amazing things for giving one some new toys and a bit of a power boost but the general public do tend to get awfully squeamish about them. It's all that blood you have to use to get them to work, I suppose.

The newly elected Minister of Magic, Hermione Weasley, had certainly thought so. I remembered the days when she hadn't been such a stuck up, prissy bitch. The time when we had been friends ... and more, but even back then she probably would have got all preachy about me doing blood rituals.

I had comforted her after her parents murder back in the summer of 'Ninety Six, desperately trying not to let my attraction to, and lust for, my friend get in the way of just being there for her when she needed me. To my surprise (and delight), however, she had been the one to kiss me first, initiating our, slightly tepid it has to be said, seven month affair.

Undoubtedly the best seven months of my life, that was. The end of our 'grande amoure' wasn't so great, though.

I had loved her with a fiery passion from the first moment that I had seen her big, bushy hair and cute, buck-toothed smile on the Hogwarts Express, wheras she had always loved me like a friend. Like a sister. In my naivety and stupidity, I had never believed that, of course. My love addled brain wouldn't let me. It's why I didn't think to question it when she all but fell into my arms that summer out of grief, or some mis-placed sense of 'rewarding' me for my patience and effort. I didn't know, I didn't care and I didn't question.

And I really _should_ have questioned it. Just as I should have stepped in when I saw her doing the exact same thing with poor Carina over the next year or so, after she was released from Azkaban, framed for killing the Grangers.

Sirius' wild, little, animagus daughter would have killed me if she had ever heard me calling her that, but I could never think of her in any other terms than as 'poor Carina'. And I mean she would have really killed me. Carina Black may have been one of the best friends that I ever had as well as a bit of a prankster in her youth (like our dear Sirius) but she hated being pitied. Even by me. _Especially_ by me. So when I say she would have killed me I actually mean it. That girl had a temper worse than mine and the power to back it up.

We were like peas in a pod. And it wasn't just being the victims of abuse and our mutual 'saving people thing' that bonded us. We were more alike than anyone really knew. She was my truest friend and my greatest regret. I should have believed in her as she had always believed in me, fought for her as she had always fought for me. We all should have, but we let Dumbledore and his honeyed words sway us.

I was as dumb as rock back then and even after all of the things that she had suffered in that Merlin damned prison, I still allowed that bushy haired bitch to play with her fragile heart like that. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth even now and I don't blame her in the slightest for bailing on us, on me. No, I blame Hermione for that.

Which brings me back to my point. Hermione Weasley hadn't trusted me, or really even liked me very much, since the aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts when Carina and I had caught her snogging with Ronald amongst all the bodies in the ruined castle.

Things were said.

Bad things.

Things that couldn't be taken back.

The repercussions of our four way _conversation_ that night had done what Voldemort and his minions had never been able to. It split the 'golden quartet' apart finally and forever.

The ginger moron and his bushy haired, harlot had gone off to get married and plot Hermione's path to greatness while a heart-broken Carina had all but fled to America with Teddy Lupin and Luna Lovegood in tow. I had struggled to see the sense in that, to be honest. Not that I didn't think that it was a good idea of her having someone there to keep from going insane. No it was the thought that _Luna_ would be anybody's first choice for that role. She might be super cute and lot of fun, but that girl was, and always would be, nuts. It was probably her that started all that mess with the vampires.

As for me? Well, I was heart-broken too but nobody seemed to care about that and, since I didn't have anyone who wanted to go with me for the right reasons, I went off on my own, personal 'walkabout' alone. Oh, there were plenty of offers for 'company' but none of them were very appealing to me. There are only so many times that you can make Cho Chang scream out your name (Oh, _hell_ yes, I did that) before it gets a bit ... tedious. Especially when she's not the one that you actually want to be screaming out your name. So, I picked up my ICW accreditation as an Agent of the Light, a very useful thing if you don't want to get jailed for killing people, Dark Lords or not, and I Ieft. Alone.

Bit of a good job too, really.

I learned a great deal from my travels and my battles. Not all of it was very nice. In fact, most of it was downright unpalatable. It's where I picked up the knowledge of rituals (Egypt) and using blood sacrifices to facilitate them (Sumeria), although I never went as far as the ancient Wizards in central America. Those were some blood-thirsty Toltec and Mayan bastards right there.

Besides, I was living in the Outer Hebrides by the time I started using them and we had neither the pyramids nor the population for such practices.

The incredible (super toned and super sexy) body, the strength, the wings, the sword, the elder wand, the black sclera and iris that I had 'gained' from my rituals, however, they made quite the impression when I went to battle. It gained the attention of the Order of Nephilim, a morally sketchy group of Dark Wizard hunters who asked me to join, and of course, the entire British magical population when I rather stupidly allowed someone to live long enough to photograph me.

The picture hit the front page of The Daily Prophet within a day of being 'found' some months later and all Hell let loose.

They saw what I had done to myself, all in the name of their bloody safety mind you, and decided that their saviour, the great heroine of the second blood war and champion of the light had gone Dark. Apparently, I needed to be 'dealt with' and 'purified'. I'll bet you a thousand Galleons, that was Ronald. He always was a bigoted, fucking idiot when it came to that sort of thing.

So, Minister Weasley (that still sounds all kinds of wrong for _sooo_ many reasons) raised an army of Aurors and assorted volunteers and brought her 'war of purification' to my door.

A lot of the people who died in that confrontation were those that I had once called friends ... comrades ... even a lover or two. I didn't kill Hermione though, that was her idiot husband hitting her in the back of the head with an overpowered _reducto_ meant for me. I'm surprised that he ever managed to have sex in the first place, let alone father two kids, with that bad of an aim.

I'm sure that Carina, wherever she was then, was cheering me on in spirit as I separated his stupid, ginger head from his body with my sword moments later.

Ronald was the last death that day. After he was dispatched, with rather more prejudice than was strictly necessary, those horrified few that were left lay down their wands and gave themselves to my mercy. I mercifully gave them a few days to get their affairs in order and then I mercifully executed them.

Page one, Chapter one of the Dark Lady handbook. Never leave an enemy alive to turn around and stab you in the back at a later date. It was a surprisingly common mistake among Dark Wizards, Voldemort included, although I couldn't really say too much about that since I _was_ one of his mistakes.

It did not go un-noticed that I had just slaughtered half the magical population of the British Isles and enslaved the remainder under, what was essentially, a dictatorship and the eyes of the ICW turned upon me.

Their previously lauded and decorated Dark Wizard hunter was now number one on the International 'most wanted' list and there were individuals, organisations, and indeed entire Countries, lining up to take me down. They should have worked together. Might have stood a chance against me then. But probably not.

Within five short years I had killed them all. And I do mean _all_.

.

Ashes.

That was all that remained of the magical World now.

This was my great legacy.

I was the Mistress of Death, His Angel on Earth and I had done my job well. Nothing was left. Not a single person, not an animal, vegetable or mineral that was not more than a crumbling piece of charred carbon. Everyone and everything that I had ever cared about was dead. Except for me.

Funny, isn't it?

No?

To be honest, I didn't really think so either.

Oh, the muggles went on, as before, oblivious in their mundane lives and their mundane World, but the _real_ World ... my World ... the World that I had loved and embraced so tightly from the very first second that I had known of it's existence ... that was gone.

I had killed it.

All of this was _my_ fault and _I_ needed to fix it.

But how do you fix something that is already dead?

The answer took me many months of alternating between rage fueled screaming, excited babbling and quiet contemplation in my Island strong-hold to locate, but I got there in the end. Admittedly I was a great deal less sane by that point than I had been when I started looking. Frankly, I made Bella-bitch Lestrange and Loony Lovegood look relatively normal (or as close as those two would ever get, anyway) by the time I had figured it out.

Time being the operative word.

I knew there were all kinds of rituals, including ones that dealt with time, all I had to do was find one. Or the _right_ one really.

To correct the terrifying future that I had personally created, I had to go back to the beginning. Well, not _all_ the way back. There was absolutely no fucking way I was going back to that damned cupboard, or the hell that was Durzkaban at all, if I could help it, but I _did_ need to go far enough back to save them.

To save myself.

Actually, I wasn't too worried about saving myself, always having been Fate's bitch, I was more than prepared to sacrifice myself so that the World that I had loved (and then destroyed) could have another chance. So that all of them, Carina, Cho, Hermione, even Ronald the idiot and the blonde ponce, those that I loved and loathed alike would get a chance at their 'happy ever after'.

I would give them this this gift without having a hope of it for myself. It would be my penance.

.

The ritual was simple enough. Finding it, however, was not. Mainly because I had the destroyed pretty much all of the places where I might have been able to find the relevant information. There were no more libraries, no more repositories of learning, no-one left with the requisite knowledge and skill to assist me. No-one left at all.

It was then that I realised who, or more precisely, _what_ , I had to turn to.

I summoned the elder wand to my left hand and my 'sword of doom', complete with the resurrection stone embedded in it's hilt to my right. The cloak was always with me, disguised in plain sight as the regular, if slightly tatty, black one that I always wore.

I had the Hallows, I was the Mistress of Death and had been feeding him souls for a little over forty years, He would come when I called. Plus, he owed me for Tom Riddle, as well as a couple of other wannabes who had also tried horcuxes as a means to 'defeat' Him later on.

"Death, the Great Leveller, He who lays his icy hand on peasant and Prince alike, your Angel beseeches you, your Mistress commands you ... Come."

It took a couple more goes, the words becoming increasingly more loud and vehement before He deigned to show Himself.

 **What do you want, mortal?**

"I _beg_ your pardon. Just who in the Hell do you think you're talking to here, my lad?"

Death sighed as his shoulders slumped. He couldn't really sigh, of course, but it was always fun to imagine him doing that. We didn't interact that often but I had found it really annoyed the Grim Reaper when I treated him like a stroppy teenager.

 **Alright then, what do you want ...** _ **Mistress**_ **?**

After I had explained my predicament in my best 'mom' voice, the Reaper of Souls proved to me what an excellent idea calling on him was. He may be creepy and scary, even to an exceedingly creepy and scary individual like myself, but the man (?) knew his shit. He knew everything actually but all I needed was the information about one, very specific, ritual. He gave it up faster than I thought was possible, which I just chalked up to Him wanting to be a good and helpful 'servant'.

Being the Mistress of Death was a complete pain in the arse most of the time, but sometimes, like now, it was just bloody ... _awesome_. My 'dumb as a rock' days were not yet behind me apparently, as I ignored the, not at all creepy and calculating grin of Death and started jumping up and down, cheering in my excitement at getting this ritual started.

It occurs to me now that taking the piss out of Death for four decades probably wasn't a particularly brilliant idea. Especially since I needed his help with this ritual and with what happened later. You know what they say about hind-sight being twenty/twenty and all? Totally true.

I really should have known that my so called 'servant' would fuck me over good and proper.

Although I suppose he didn't so much stiff me on the ritual as in it's consequences. As always, the Devil was in the details.

Now, I may have done some ... _questionable_ ... things in my life but I believed, through my own, messed up, sense of morality, that I had never been outright evil. Not until that day. The day of the ritual. The day that I rounded up eighty five muggles (they were the least savoury ones that I could find, but I was on a clock and some of them may have been less horrible than I was trying for), tied them fucking great crosses in a massive circle and bled them dry to power my ritual.

I blackened my soul that day. Well, even more than I had done previously, anyway. I tried to justify it, of course. I told myself that these people would never have technically died if I did this ritual right. I told myself that nobody else would have to die, either 'now' or 'then'. I told myself that it was all for the 'greater good'.

That was when I realised that I had gone truly insane.

It still wasn't enough of a wake up call for me to stop, however. I was set upon my path and there was no turning back. Not now.

I stepped into the circle and ran the already bloody blade down my own forearms, raised my arms and began to chant the words that my highly untrustworthy 'servant' had drilled into me. It didn't surprise me that it was in Ancient Persian. Those fuckers were even more blood-thirsty than the Mayans but they _did_ have a God of Time as well as all of those creepy Death cults. Zoroastrian was a bit of an oddity as a God but I didn't care. I would have performed cunnilingus on that pink, toad, bitch, Delores Umbridge herself if it got me where I needed to go.

Or _when_ I needed to go.

With my goal in front of me and that extremely disturbing image in my brain, I sucked it up and powered on through this evil, damned ritual as fast as was physically possible. It still took all day. And it hurt like _fuck_. But it also worked.

Kind of.

.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Not the timing of my return, that was bang on; It was October thirty first Nineteen Ninety Four, and I had made it just in time for the Goblet of Fire to announce the Tri-Wizard Tournament champions, it seemed. That part of it was perfect. No, it was more the fact that I was sat on entirely the wrong side of the Gryffindor table to what I remembered I always had. And then I saw why.

I found myself staring straight into the wide, emerald eyes of ... well ... me. And not like in a reflection in a mirror, but actually me. A much younger me, obviously. That part wasn't unexpected, only the part was where I had expected to be the one inhabiting that particular piece of fleshy real estate which led to the big question; If Marigold 'Mari' Potter was sat over there, and the presence of my two book-ends from this time, Hermione and Carina, seemed to suggest this to be the case, then whose body had I ended up in?

A quick and surreptitious examination of my forearms told me that I still had the ritual tattoos for my wand and sword but the lack of scarring indicated that my body was far younger than when I left the future. Which was pretty awesome when you thought about it. It also meant that I hadn't fucked the ritual up totally. Just a little bit.

Okay, so it was a fairly important 'little bit', given my self appointed mission here.

I needed to check what else I had potentially done wrong. Grabbing a golden plate and casting a wandless polishing charm on it, I stared at my own reflection in the makeshift mirror. There was a great deal of relief at the image that glared back up at me for a moment before it slowly started to smile.

It was me.

I mean, older me. Older than I had planned for, anyway. Like at least Sixteen or maybe even Seventeen. Also, it was post 'extreme beautification and massive power up' rituals me. Unbelievably sexy and dangerous looking me. I will admit that I sort of got a bit lost in the moment here but, in my defence, I hadn't seen myself looking this good in over a decade and I was all giddy. Yes, even Dark Ladies can get 'giddy' on occasion. Especially when they look as hot as I did and could now look forward to charming the pants off of literally any witch I damned well pleased.

Because of my mental trip to the land of teenage lust, Dumbledore had to repeat my name three times before I actually heard it. Except that it wasn't actually my name. I mean, I felt like it was, but it _wasn't_ all at the same time. Consequently, it took quite some time for my brain to catch up to what was happening.

"Angel De'ath."

I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. But I couldn't. All I could do was scream and rage at my own hubris and stupidity and incompetence in the privacy of my own mind. And at that bony bastard Death's twisted sense of humour obviously. I wasn't allowed to linger there for long, mind you.

"Oi moron, that's you."

Katie Bell, one of my former colleagues on the Gryffindor quidditch team, pushed my shoulder hard as she spoke, causing me to fall off of my chair and onto the cold, stone floor in an untidy heap. Laughter exploded in my ears and I growled as I scowled into the flagstone beneath my splayed hands. Then my eye began to twitch. This was not a good sign for anybody currently in the Great Hall that wasn't me.

Back in the day, I was a called a Dark Lady for a very good reason and these school children were about to get a lesson in why it's never a good idea to laugh at someone as dangerously powerful as me. Not that they knew I was any of those things at the moment. It didn't matter to me though. I was incensed, as much by my failure with the ritual to bring me here as with the fact that these _children_ were laughing at me.

Unfortunately for them it set off the activation of one of my least attractive traits. My prodigious temper.

I rose to my full height, rolled my shoulders to rid myself of the residual stiffness and embarrassment, the joints popping and cracking impressively over the giggling in the Great Hall, and released a pulse of pure magic from my core. It swept across the room leaving nothing but silence in it's wake.

Well, silence and the occasional shocked gasp from the teachers and guests.

And a few whimpers from the younger and less brave students.

And a strong smell of ammonia from those who couldn't hold their bladders.

Even Dumbledore blinked a couple of times before motioning me forward with a puzzled, but still twinkly eyed, smile.

With head held high, daring anyone to say a word, I stalked to the podium with all the dangerous grace of the Alpha predator that, given my many ritual enhancements, I most certainly was.

"Let's hear it for your Hogwarts Champion, Miss Angel De'ath!"

The applause started out rather restrained and polite, a ripple of quiet clapping with a few half hearted 'whoops' from my own Gryffindor, Housemates. In no way, did I feel that this was an appropriate response for the Hogwarts Champion from the Hogwarts faithful and, at my snarl and another pulse of magic, the ripple became a raging torrent, raising me up on it's tide of emotion.

Ahhh. Fear. One of my personal favourites. I could literally smell it in the air as I sashayed to the Champion's Chamber at the other end of the hall, liberally dispensing winning smiles and 'royal' waves to my, now manically cheering, 'subjects'. Although, the mask did almost slip when I caught sight of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team indulging in some very over the top bowing and scraping (Weasley inspired, no doubt) as I passed by. Still, I managed to make it out of the hall with no more indication of my amusement than a crafty wink at the surprisingly pleased looking Mari Potter and her two shell-shocked friends.

She didn't look quite so pleased when she followed me through the door to the Champion's Chamber a few minutes later, mind you. Her demeanour was outwardly tough and determined, but you could see the scared part if you knew where to look.

My protective instincts immediately went into overdrive.

.

"I believe you."

Three simple words, spoken loudly and clearly, that had a huge effect.

They cut through the babbling and the arguing like a hot knife through butter, silencing the entire room. Which was strange enough, considering my knowledge of the hateful attitudes and mental capacity of most of the morons present, even if it had been the effect that I had been going for. What happened next, however, was much more strange.

I grunted as my younger self crashed into me, hugging me with a fierce intensity that I had forgotten I possessed.

And that was the problem here. I didn't hug. Anyone. Ever. Well, with two important exceptions.

The _only_ times that I had ever initiated a hug, or even accepted one without much squirming and attempting to get away, were with Hermione and Carina. My first and fiercest girl-crush meant that I let Hermione get away with a lot of shit that I wouldn't otherwise have done. Something else (besides our shitty home lives) that Carina and I had bonded over. Our hugs were much more rare, but much more heartfelt.

So knowing how I was back then, how much I hated all forms of physical contact that were not from these two trusted individuals, to say I was surprised would be quite the understatement. As she continued to hold tightly around my waist and my own arm slipped around her shoulders, tugging her even closer, I thought that I might actually burst a blood vessel from the shock of it all.

We sat together for the entire ten minutes of the meeting, our hands clasped together, giving and receiving the, unlooked for but welcomed, comfort of the warm contact. I backed her up when she told them she didn't enter their damned Tournament, I defended her when they wouldn't listen and I told Snape to go fuck himself when ... well, because he was _Snape_. And really, who needed any more reason than that?

Minerva McGonagall approached us as the volatile 'meeting' came to a close.

The Deputy Headmistress had that look of blissful pride on her face that appeared whenever one of her young Lions did something particularly good or brave or noteworthy. It was a look that I hadn't seen in a very long time, well not directed at me anyway, and it made my heart swell unexpectedly and my breath catch in my throat.

"Miss De'ath, the Headmaster wondered if you could spare him a moment in his office."

It obviously wasn't a request and, honestly, I was quite keen to meet with him myself, but my protective side wasn't quite prepared to let 'little Mari' face the trip to Gryffindor Tower on her own. Our House Head must have seen the hesitation on my face and made a good guess as to it's reason.

"Don't worry dear, I'll get Miss Potter back to the dorms safely and make sure that she's alright."

It wasn't until I received another hug (seriously now, what the hell was going on?) and a whispered 'I'll be fine' that I relinquished my hold on Mari and allowed the professor to lead her away. They turned in the doorway and I was treated to a pair of smiles from two witches who rarely, if ever, did so at this point in time.

Something very weird was going on.

Then a bright and twinkly eyed Mari Potter giggled as she shyly waved me good-bye, making Minerva chuckle and nudge her out of the chamber. She ... I ... she ... _giggled._ I'm almost certain that somewhere out there, beyond the reach of time and space, Hell was freezing over. And Death was laughing his bony arse off.

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 **There is a poem called 'Death The Leveller' by James Shirley, which is where that particular phrase came from. It's a bit morbid (obviously) but rather good all the same and well worth the read.**

 **Your reviews are oh so** _ **precious**_ **to me but not necessary. I'm certainly not going to hold you guys to ransom over them.**

 **Good? Bad? Leave your thoughts although you can always PM me with ideas, suggestions, comments if you want. Dylan the Rabbit. xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't know why I couldn't upload this yesterday but I couldn't. Which was very frustrating. In terms of content, we're having a switch from First toThird person perspective now and this is a change that will be in force for the rest of this story. Chapter One was** _ **all**_ **about 'Angel' and was very 'me, me, me, me, me'. Now things start to complicate and diversify.**

 **For any of you who are worried about it, this will not be some blow by blow re-telling of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Yes it will be referenced, yes there will be the occasional scene about the tasks (Angel versus a dragon? Oh,** _ **hell**_ **yes) but most of the 'action' will take place elsewhere.**

 **Also I'm going to address the review that mentioned self-cest; Er, no. Because that's just ... eeeuw. So, no.**

 **Once again, a huge thank-you to FateRogue for allowing me the use of their OC, Carina Black. You won't see that much of her until Chapter Three but, trust me, she's well worth the wait.**

 **As always if you have ideas, suggestions or want to see something happen then put it in a review or give me a PM. As you have seen in most of my stories I am more than happy to adapt it as we go if I find something that you've suggested helpful, useful or just plain amusing.**

 **I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.**

 **Dylan the Rabbit. xx**

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 **Fallen Angel.**

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 **2\. Complications.**

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The familiarity and security of the headmaster's office at Hogwarts was just what Angel needed right then. She had spent many happy hours in here, both at school and later, in her Lady Protectress days, when she took the time to investigate all of the doodads and trinkets that various Headmasters and Mistresses had left lying around the place. As well as the books, of course. It would have been considered quite rude to just wander in and start rummaging about had the place not shut down soon after the failed war of 'purification' due to a severe lack of students.

Of course, she had re-opened the school as soon as she could after taking control, but until she had the right staff and all of the new scholarship students in place she basically had the run of the castle. She got to wander the library, towers and dungeons that she had so loved in her happy and innocent days here at her leisure without all of those distracting people in the way and she had loved doing so but it was this office that she always ended up back at.

It was a shame the old castle had blown up as completely and spectacularly as it had less than two years after opening again. She had been sad to have to do that to such an ancient and historic building but the place was full of Russian mercenaries trying to kill her so Angel felt that she had little choice in the matter, frankly.

She did miss lounging about in the Headmaster's office, reading all the confiscated pornography though. Angel hadn't known whose collection it was, although she was really hoping that McGonagall was the culprit, but it was very extensive and highly explicit. So much so, in fact, that she had given the unknown 'collector' a very impressed, if unheard, round of applause on first finding it.

Entering the place again was almost like coming home and seeing the man that she had so admired in her younger days in his usual place behind the ancient desk made it feel even more so. She had learned many distasteful things about Albus Dumbledore after he had died but Angel still considered him to be something of a personal hero, nevertheless. A flawed one certainly, but then she wasn't exactly free of flaws herself, the ritual to get herself here and it's only partial success, being a prime example of this.

True enough, she had been disgusted with him at first, but time and her own personal experience had given her a sense of perspective when it came to his less than heroic actions. They had both started out with dreams of a better World only to see them break and crumble before their horrified eyes. Angel understood him better now and she still loved him. If the smile on Albus Dumbledore's face was anything to go by his regard for her was equally undiminished.

Not that everyone in this office thought like that, of course.

.

Fawkes was more than a little agitated but that wasn't so surprising. Angel De'ath, as she was now forced to refer to herself in order to not go any more insane, had done some Dark and terrible deeds in her life and they had left an irrevocable stain on her soul. He, on the other hand, was a creature of almost pure 'Light' and didn't react so well when in an enclosed space with someone who had killed as many people as she had. His squawking was more than a little disturbing, though and the Headmaster eventually had to put him into his private quarters so that they could start their meeting.

Even though Dumbledore had clearly noticed this attitude on the part of his familiar, he didn't appear to be too worried about it. Of course, Angel had dealt with the old man for long enough to know better than to make any assumptions about what he was thinking. He proved her right almost the second that his bony old arse hit the chair and he gave the Dark witch that, sometimes comforting but always infuriating, smile of his.

"Well now Marigold, do you want some tea first or shall we get right to me asking you for the reason why you came back into this time? I'm sure it's an absolutely fascinating story."

The former Dark Lady's black eyes flicked to the portraits lining the walls and her jaw clenched at his perceived stupidity in making that unexpected statement in front of the most notorious gossip mongers of Hogwarts. Lavender Brown had nothing on these nosy tossers.

"Don't worry dear, I've already blocked the portraits from being able to listen in."

"They can still see."

"Hmm. Yes, perhaps on reflection you are right. Let's up the privacy levels, shall we?"

To his great surprise, Dumbledore couldn't make anything happen when he waved his wand and muttered the incantation. Angel saw what wand he was attempting to use and she knew exactly why it wasn't working for him.

It was pretty obvious, to her at least, that only one version of the Deathly Hallows could be active at any given time. And since she had already seen that her tattoos were still active and could still sense the unique feel of the cloak against her shoulders, Angel had guessed that she had the 'real deal' tucked into that handy, dimensional rift in her forearm. The old man tried a couple more times before the realisation hit him too.

"Ah. I assume that you have the complete set then, Miss Potter?" She nodded with only the barest hint of a smirk. "Would you mind terribly then, the incantation to bring the shutters down is ... "

Angel didn't wait for him to finish, only waving her hand loosely at the portraits and solid steel shutters slammed down in front of their extremely displeased inhabitants. Even though he had set it up to test the girl's power, Albus drew in a sharp breath at her display of such easy mastery of both wandless and wordless magic. Since it took a great deal of time and experience to get that good at it, he concluded that there was no way that this 'girl' was anywhere close to being as young as she looked.

"If it's not an indecorous question Marigold, may I ask how old you are?"

"Okay so first, for everybody's continued sanity, do you think that you could call me Angel or Miss De'ath, since that's my name now. _Apparently_... " There was more than a touch of venom in her voice as that word left her lips. " ... and second, it's not really very polite of you to ask, but I was Fifty seven at the time of my last birthday."

"Another question that may also be considered a touch impolite." Albus leaned forward in his seat, all pretense the genial old grandfather gone now. "How and, more importantly, _why_ are you here?"

Angel expected the old man's attitude and respected it. She was, after all, not the girl that he knew but a totally unknown quantity. He didn't know what she had got up to in her later life although some of it was fairly easy for him to guess. The application of wandless and wordless magics were difficult enough to achieve separately, let alone in the easy and practised combination that she had just done. The power that you needed was immense and that kind of power always came at a cost.

Albus knew that she had never shown that kind of power or even the potential for it when she was younger and Angel knew that he knew this. The inescapable conclusion was that deals and compromises had been made to get her to this level and for both of them this raised some questions that they would rather not have thought about. It was uncomfortably like what Tom Riddle had done to himself in his pursuit for total domination. More uncomfortable still was the obvious fact that she eclipsed 'Lord Voldemort' by quite some considerable margin.

To those who knew of such things, and Angel had no doubts that he did, that kind of power up just screamed the words 'blood' and 'ritual'.

A fact which Albus confirmed when she answered the how she had managed to get herself back here part of his previous question. Not that she was being _totally_ honest with him. He had picked up many things from the muggles and the muggleborn with whom he had interacted in his long life and reading body language was one of the most useful of these lessons that he learned.

He let it go for now and moved on to the why.

"What is it then, regret? ... _Revenge_?" Dumbledore clearly saw the hardening of her jaw as he spoke these two words and mistakenly (although only slightly) took it as a sign that possibly the first and definitely the second were correct. "Against the Death Eaters or against ... me?"

"Oh, I don't blame you for your mistakes, Albus. Morgana, knows I've made enough of my own over the years ... too many to go around berating you for doing what you thought was right at the time. It would be rather hypocritical of me now, wouldn't it?"

The honesty and sadness in her voice was unmistakable. Whatever half truths she had given him in her previous answer, he was convinced that she was telling the truth now. She continued in the same tone.

"As for revenge? Well, I'm sure that there'll be some of that, my temper has not really improved with age, but mostly it was about regret."

The old man smiled sadly back at his student (sacrifice) and nodded thoughtfully.

"So, how did it come to this? What forced your decision to come back?"

"Perhaps we ought to start at the beginning."

.

In the hour and a half that it took for Angel to give the Headmaster the mostly unexpurgated version of her life story his face had run the gamut of emotional response. From sorrow and self loathing, through amusement and understanding to horror and finally sadness. Her life was a tragedy and it was a tragedy of his making. The fact that she didn't seem to blame him or hate him for his many mistakes in regard to her and her friends really didn't make Albus feel any better.

"So, what do you intend to do now that you're back and in, not quite the position that you had expected?"

"Mari is the key. She needs help and I'm going to give it to her. Well, actually, I'm going to help them all ... all the ones who ... "

Angel's voice trailed off again as the shadows of the dead in her mind turned to stare at her balefully, the accusation evident in their black, lifeless eyes. He noticed the girl's sudden distress and stepped in to bring her back from her dark thoughts.

"But in order to help them, you have to help _her._ Am I right?"

"Yes."

"May I ask how you're going to do that?"

So she told him.

It wasn't a terrible plan, he thought, but he still didn't like it very much. In essence, the former Dark Lady and future scourge of the magical World was going back to her roots, as the sacrificial lamb.

Angel was going to sacrifice this new version of herself so that the younger 'Mari' version could live her life unfettered by the hysterical rantings of the, mainly conservative and backwards, general public for both good or ill. Over and above her plans for Tom and his horcruxes, the older witch was going to behave _so_ badly that no-one would be paying any attention to the 'girl-who-lived' whatsoever. She was going to cross every boundary, break every taboo and do it so obnoxiously and so _publicly_ that she would draw the eye of every blood purist, elitist, misogynist and homophobe to her.

There were many unspoken rules that lay hidden beneath the more acceptable laws that governed their society and one of the biggies was concerning homosexuality. It was ridiculously simple (especially for him) to see that Angel, in both of her incarnations, was as gay as he was and, while this wasn't a huge problem, there were still rules. Nobody really minded if a wizard or witch preferred a partner of their own gender as long as they were decently silent about it and did their duty to magical society by getting married and providing children.

If you wanted to be left alone to live your life unmolested then you didn't talk about being gay and you certainly didn't advertise it. Angel was planning to do both and in doing so was going to receive some very adverse publicity, Tri-Wizard Tournament champion or not. In fact, that might even make it worse. The first person to break the rules always got the worst of the backlash and Angel was prepared to suffer that to ensure an easier ride for those, like Mari, who followed in her footsteps. She didn't seem to be overly worried about it though, if her response to his carefully phrased concerns was anything to go by.

"She's going to look like fucking Mother Teresa next to me."

Albus couldn't help but laugh again, he'd been doing that a lot this evening, but now it was time to get serious. He wanted to help the time traveler out with her mission and perhaps even take some of the sting out of the reactions that she was going to provoke with her plan.

"And what is it that you need me to do?"

Her answer was as simple as it was unexpected.

"Nothing."

Dumbledore's eyebrow raised so far up his forehead that it nearly disappeared beneath the brim of his hat.

"You will do nothing. You will enjoy your semi-retirement and leave it to me."

"But surely I could at least ... " He stopped, his brain seemingly just having caught up to her last comment. " ... Semi-retirement?"

"Caught that, did you?" Angel smirked at the old man. "Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. You don't _need_ to do all of those jobs Albus, just pick one and give it your full attention. If you want my opinion you should stay here, at Hogwarts."

"Because I'm most needed here?"

"Because you were _born_ to be a teacher old friend, and you clearly adore it as much as your students adore you. Well most of them, anyway."

He saw nothing but open honesty now and concern for an over-stretched old man. Also, her use of the words 'old friend' had him reaching for the tissues to dab at his, suddenly moist, eyes. He had always been a touch sentimental but the older he got, the harder it got to control.

"I'm serious Albus ... " A long forgotten joke about her god-father popped into Angel's head at that moment but given the gravity of the situation she managed to repress the urge to say it. " ... Leave it to me."

The Headmaster, and yes he could admit that teaching was where his heart's desire lay, wasn't positive that he could agree to do that entirely but he would try. He would try because Angel had asked him to and because her sacrifice deserved the respect of him doing so. He nodded his assent and attempted to lighten their conversation once more. Funnily enough, thinking about her name gave him just that opportunity. Angel De'ath.

"So, the name seems appropriate."

"Yes. Apparently, my 'servant' has a sense of humour, that rivals my old dog-father's in it's juvenile nature."

"You do know that being the Mistress of Death doesn't mean that the Grim reaper is actually obliged to assist you in any way, don't you?"

"What!"

"Yes, the title is more to do with what you can achieve in the realm of man with the Hallows in your possession than actually being able to exert any kind of control over the anthropomorphic representation of Death. But surely you knew this?" His eyes widened a bit as he looked at his, now treasured, guest. "You surely haven't been trying to command the _actual_ Death. Oh my."

As he realised that that was _precisely_ what she had been attempting for the last, who knew how many, years, Albus drew in a sharp breath which he then released in a great shout of laughter that was shortly followed by a bout of uncontrollable giggling. Oh, this was just hysterical. His big, bad, time travelling, War Witch, who was clearly both highly intelligent and unbelievably powerful was, in some ways, as dumb as a rock.

He continued in his state of extreme amusement until he caught sight of her stony face and remembered that this 'girl' was still an unbelievably powerful War Witch, and one who possessed a working version of the 'Deathstick' at that. He finally managed to control himself, schooled his face into an expression of serious contrition and muttered out an apology, only for her to grin at the obvious about face and start to chuckle right back at him.

"Don't scare me like that you evil woman, you'll give me a heart attack."

Her surprisingly light, musical, laughter broke out for sure then and it wasn't long before his own throaty rumble joined it.

.

She had been waiting for the question all evening and was not surprised when he finally asked about the rituals that she had performed. Angel knew that her old Headmaster had more than a passing interest in what she had done to herself over the years and opted for full disclosure. They had come this far and the old man didn't seem put off or put out yet so, why not?

She was still not ready to give him the full details of her last ritual, the one that had brought her back to this time, but the others were just ancient magic, fueled by her own blood. Angel was happy enough to give out the details of how she had combined modern, muggle, medical practices with a good level of potions knowledge to bypass the need for any other 'donors'. It really was amazing what you could do with an intravenous drip of a refined blood replenisher and the will-power to see through your experiments to their unknown and possibly extremely fatal ends.

Despite Albus' great interest in the mechanics of her rituals, they did eventually move on to their results.

"I think that the wings are the coolest." She paused for a few seconds and thought about it. "Although the height thing runs a pretty close second. I'd forgotten what a short-arse I was until saw Mari earlier."

"My goodness, wings, that does sound exciting. Would you be willing to show me?"

"You just want to see me with my shirt off."

"Now we both know that _that's_ not the case, do we not, Miss Pot ... sorry ... De'ath."

They most definitely did. Tonight, this office was host to, quite possibly, the two most flamboyantly gay magicals in Britain at this precise moment, soon to be very publicly so, if he understood her plans correctly. His renewed thoughts on this subject were quickly de-railed by Angel's shrugging acceptance of giving him a demonstration though.

The threstral cored, elder wand appeared in Angel's hand as if by ... well, magic ... and the witch flicked it about her with a confidence and ability that only came with a life-time of experience. There were no intricate patterns and not a word was uttered by his fascinating visitor as she did the impossible, by-passing the castle wards and enlarged his office outwards and upwards until she was, apparently, satisfied. It didn't shock him by this stage, knowing how this 'young' woman had effectively ruled the magical world and how powerful and single minded she would have to be to have done so.

She then proved his point even further.

Having shed her jumper and shirt, and winking lasciviously and exaggeratedly at the Headmaster in the process, which made them both chuckle, Angel De'ath rose from the carpeted floor and spread her wings. Both figuratively and literally.

Albus had been a 'wizard who liked wizards' practically since the time he could recognize the difference between the sexes but even he would admit that the witch before him was an absolute stunner. Now he knew that her story was no idle boasting, not that he had really considered that to be the case in the first place, but even that single seed of doubt in his mind was dispelled when he saw the dark vision in front of him.

The great, black feathered, wings stretched from her back to span over eighteen feet from tip to tip, their primary and secondaries rippling and fluttering to keep her aloft in an artificial breeze that suddenly eddied around the room. From the Wand of Destiny in her left hand to the huge, onyx, sword held tightly in her right, he gazed across her firmly muscled body in awe. He had certainly never been quite so impressed at the sight of a half-naked, seventeen year-old girl before.

She was magnificent.

As were her fast and totally seamless self Transfiguration skills. And then, as fast as it had happened, the winged and heavily armed, black eyed, 'Angel of Death' had become the very pretty and deceptively sweet and innocent looking school girl again. Albus blinked at the rapid transformation, almost not believing that it had happened until he saw those creepy, terrifying, black eyes staring back at him. He breathed out in an impressed sigh.

"Thank-you Angel, that was truly fascinating. Gellert would have loved seeing that."

"Do you miss him ... Gellert?"

"Every day. Do you miss her ... Hermione?"

Angel chuckled and nodded at the at the old man's scary insight before sobering again and whispering out.

"Every day."

"But you're not going to ... "

"No." The witch shook her head sadly and confirmed her intentions towards her former crush. Or rather, to Albus' relief, her lack of them. "No."

Both Angel and her old Headmaster really wished that they had bonded like this last time around. So many lost opportunities. So much time wasted, so many lives taken or ruined by his grand plots and plans. Perhaps Angel was right. Perhaps it was time for him to take a step back and let those younger and better equipped fight the good fight.

Angel De'ath may not be all, or even mostly good, but she had come here with a good and noble purpose, to help those who were previously doomed to achieve the lives that they should have had. He had always believed in the maxim that it is our actions which define us and the actions that she proposed and that she had already taken, defined her as a true 'Champion of the Light'. However hard she tried to deny the title.

Maybe, when the time came, someone would come along to relieve the burden from her shoulders as she had done his. Albus found himself hoping fervently for his wish to come true and for this wonderful, self-sacrificing witch to find what she truly deserved. Peace. It was a nice dream and one that he was surprised to find he really wanted to be around to see happen. Until then, he would take pleasure in just sitting back to watch the show.

.

When Angel finally arrived at the dorms later that night, the whole of Gryffindor tower were still up. They seemed to have been splitting their time between waiting for her so that they could start their party and berating Mari for apparently 'cheating' her way into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. To cement her memories of this night in her mind, the ever helpful Ronald Weasley could be seen leading the scoffing and glaring that was being directed against the embarrassed and angry 'fourth' Champion.

She remembered very clearly and exactly how frustrating and humiliating this night had been for her. She should have been used to it by then, what with the whole 'heir of Slytherin' thing in her second year, but then _all_ of her friends had stuck by her. This time, Ronald's jealousy and stupidity had driven a wedge between them that had never been properly removed. He had been a hateful, spiteful, git about this whole fucking Tournament affair and, apparently, it was no different this time.

Up with this she would not put.

Angel moved quietly and unobtrusively into the room. She lifted a nearby coffee table into the air with a silently cast _wingardium leviosa_ before banishing it into the ceiling, it's shattered remains falling onto the shouting mass of people and stunning them into silence. Every eye turned to her, although none but a few could hold her enraged gaze for more than a second or two.

"ENOUGH! Mari says she didn't enter and I believe her. Now that is the _last_ ... fucking ... word that I want to hear from anybody on this matter. Mari is a champion for better or for worse and this House _will_ support her." My black eyes bored into each and every one of them. "Or I _will_ know the reason why."

Most heads were now directed firmly at the floor in either embarrassment or fear, Angel didn't care which one, only that they obeyed her and shut their stupid, fucking mouths. Not all of them looked at the floor though. In particular, a certain redhead and two of her friends were staring, not at the carpet, but straight at the tall, beautiful, sixth year, witch who was snarling at their terrified Housemates.

Those huge, familiar, emerald eyes were gazing at Angel, fairly glowing and shining with clear adoration and ... oh dear. She had seen _that_ look before. It seemed that Mari had a bit of a crush ... on herself. Well this was just all kinds of awkward. Seconds later it got even more awkward as the girl crashed into her, squeezing Angel tightly in her second, highly strange, hug of the night. Stranger still was the black eyed Dark Lady's reaction.

She enveloped her younger self in a protective embrace, stroking the dark, red hair affectionately, eliciting the cutest little sigh from her and spoke in far more gentle manner than before.

"Come along Mari, let's go up to your dorm room and talk strategy."

Carina and Hermione took one quick glance at each other before nodding and racing after the two Gryffindor champions calling out 'We're coming too' as they jogged to catch up with them. None of the fourth year witches were in a position to see the beatific smile that graced the tall, young woman's face when they did so.

Angel led the procession of younger girls up the familiar stairs to the girls' dormitories, her sharp ears catching the shocked and embarrassed silence in the common room being broken by a welcomed female voice.

"Since that has been settled, let's get this party started."

Good old Katie. She and the quidditch team could always be relied upon not to let an awkward situation get in the way of having a good time. As the noise levels down below increased again Angel swore to herself to do better by them all this time around. Despite the fact that she had just been threatening them all for upsetting Mari. The contradiction between her desire to help them and her instinctual reaction to a threat to Mari was putting her off balance. The quicker she started her plan, the quicker these contradictions would start to disappear. She hoped.

First, however, she needed to have a conversation with Mari and Carina. And since that conversation was going to be about girls in general and Hermione Granger in particular, Angel was sure that the 'awkward' part of the night wasn't quite behind her yet. Yes, it was going to incredibly embarrassing for all concerned but it was also very necessary. This was going to be hard enough without adding the drama that would be generated when these three teenaged witches finally figured out where their feelings, and that of their friends, really lay.

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 **Your reviews are oh so** _ **precious**_ **to me but not necessary. I'm certainly not going to hold you guys to ransom over them.**

 **Good? Bad? Leave your thoughts although you can always PM me with ideas, suggestions, comments if you want. Dylan the Rabbit. xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**A strange idea that came to me after reading a selection of darkish, time-travel fics. Unlike a great deal of my writing, this is all planned out and mostly already written but I'm going to upload a chapter every Sunday to give you all something regular to read while I struggle on with my other projects and their far less predictable updates.**

 **All credit goes to FateRogue for the wonderful Carina Black, and my undying gratitude for generously allowing me to use her in this story.**

 **As always if you have ideas, suggestions or want to see something happen then put it in a review or give me a PM. As you have seen in most of my stories I am more than happy to adapt it as we go if I find something that you've suggested helpful, useful or just plain amusing.**

 **I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.**

 **Dylan the Rabbit. xx**

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 **Fallen Angel.**

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 **3\. Finding Feet and First Steps.**

.

Despite her best intentions to have a fast and firm 'talk' with Carina and Mari about their respective sexualities and the various perks and problems that would ensue, Angel was unable to realise them. This was due to that fact that the bushy haired object of the girls' teenaged desire, annoyingly refused to leave them alone to discuss it. She supposed that it was rather sweet of her to stand by Mari like this but it also made having the 'talk' next to impossible. Her continued presence would have led to a level of 'awkward' that even Angel wasn't prepared to get into right then.

So, by the time she and Katie finally emerged from the Sixth year dormitories and made their way to breakfast the next morning, many things that should have been discussed remained un-said. Unfortunately, Angel had also entirely forgotten the effect that she had had on young Mari Potter the previous evening and had unwisely decided to cheer herself up by transfiguring the already rather skimpy wardrobe that she had somehow acquired, into something even more sexy and scandalous. Well scandalous for the magical world, the muggles wouldn't have looked twice at her.

Actually they probably would have looked and probably more than twice, but it would have been for what Angel considered to be the right reasons; ie. The fact that she looked unutterably gorgeous and sexy in her skintight leather pants and the tiny, pink crop-top that proclaimed her as being 'Beyond Kawaii'. The hot pink, open, half boots and pale orchid that she had artfully entwined in a braid of her long, lustrous, black hair set the ensemble off to such a degree that even Katie (someone who she knew with absolute certainty to be as straight as an arrow) was observed stealing flustered glances at her as they descended to the Great Hall.

She felt sexy and powerful which led to her to swagger somewhat as the two sixth years entered and headed over to the Gryffindor table to a great deal of undisguised drooling from among the occupants. And it wasn't just restricted to the students. This interesting observation gave Angel a bit of a lightbulb moment and she made something of a show of turning away from the top table where the staff sat before bending over to retrieve her _accidentally_ dropped shoulder bag. Straightening back up from the waist, she took the opportunity to caress her own behind as she rose and give a sultry hair flip for good measure.

Albus' quiet chuckling at the blushing and stammering reaction of a few of his entranced teachers that this blatant display from the naughty Dark witch rang in her enhanced ears and she gave a little wave to her professors as she sat down and primly crossed her legs. The old man had to chomp down on a particularly large piece of sausage to stop himself from snorting at her antics as at least two of his staff were now close to fainting.

Angel winked at him and absent mindedly filled her plate with various tasty morsels of breakfasty goodness, all the while thinking on what she had to get done. It was time to get started on her plan to make herself the most reviled witch in Wizarding Britain. Again. The first stage of which was selecting an appropriate, and by that she meant an extremely _inappropriate_ , target for her well honed seduction techniques. Like a professor. Now wouldn't _that_ just 'wake up the neighbours' so to speak.

She went over the candidates in her mind.

Discounting Pince, Hooch and Pomfrey for being not actually professors and not high profile enough for her needs and Sprout and Babbling on the grounds of their age (as well as the fact that both of these witches had rather let themselves go), Angel was left with four options. She decided to throw off anybody watching her by staring blindly at the stunning French champion over at the Ravenclaw table while considering her chances with each of these witches in the privacy of her own mind.

First, Sybill Trelawny.

Where most people who knew Angel in her former life would have been more than a little bit surprised that she was even considering a woman who she had once referred to as 'that annoying fucking hippy' for any kind of relationship, she had her reasons. Chief among these was that, even though the woman did herself no favours by dressing like a demented hobo, she was actually fairly decent looking and it wasn't like Angel was planning to marry her. For a fun, fast and dirty, high profile, 'hump and dump' though, she'd do alright.

Second, Minerva McGonagall.

Another name that would have given pause to her former friends as they had never exactly gotten along very well, even when they were fighting on the same side. They would have been even more so if they had known that Angel had beheaded her former professor for crimes against the state seven years ago. From her perspective, that is. She had never been one to hold a grudge, however, and if she was looking to cause a public splash then seducing a double war hero like 'Minnie McG' would do that rather spectacularly. Also, for a seventy year old, she was still a damned _fine_ looking witch.

Third, Aurora Sinistra.

Exciting in one respect, since the dark skinned astronomy professor was _much_ more attractive than the previous candidates, honestly she had a body that wouldn't just stop traffic, but crush it like a runaway dump truck. She rivalled even Angel in terms of bodily gorgeousness and used every inch of it with a confidence that was just super, fucking sexy. On the other hand, she was a junior professor in a mostly un-regarded, unpopular subject and had little or no presence in the pubic arena, which wasn't helpful for her plans at all. She still wanted to 'do' her though. Like, _badly_.

Fourth, Septima Vector.

Now this was an interesting witch. Younger than the other candidates by quite some way, she was considered to be a prodigy in her chosen field of Arithmancy, having demonstrated her genius in a number of papers and garnering her international attention for her brilliance. Looks wise she wasn't too shabby either. She had that young but still strict librarian or school marm vibe going on, which, given her previous interest in Hermione Granger was quite obviously not going to be problem. Quite the opposite in fact.

Smart, pretty and in the public eye, the very lucky professor Septima Vector was fast becoming her preferred option for being on the receiving end of Angel's smooth talking, seductive techniques. It should be fun for them both since Angel did love breaking in an inexperienced woman and the knitted cardigan wearing teacher might as well have had the words 'Geeky Virgin' tattooed on her forehead. Oh yeah, _just_ her type.

She sniggered into her hand at the idea of giving her Arithmancy professor a 'Britney Special' while planning how she was going to make it happen. Her chuckling died away as those black eyes swept the rest of the Great Hall to search for any more prospects for perversion among the students, just in case one of them did present a viable target and she, once again, locked her gaze on a certain platinum blonde at the Ravenclaw table.

Fleur Delacour wasn't someone who had really enamoured herself to Angel in the past (or was it the future?) with her supercilious sneering and preening whenever they were around each other. Even after she had saved the haughty girl's little sister, the totally cute and adorable 'Gabby', Mademoiselle Delacour had still been a total bitch to her, albeit less so when they were in public. Luckily, they hadn't seen much of each other after the Battle of Hogwarts and had only met properly again at another battle. A battle where, this time, they had been on opposing sides.

According to the very few survivors of that day, the aerial conflagration between the veela and the Angel of Death, had been one of the 'highlights' of the bloody encounter. She had certainly enjoyed it. Especially the part where she had torn the French bitch's wings from her body, thrown her to the ground and stomped her skull into a messy, pink mush. The Weasleys had taken a bit of an exception to her doing that but is wasn't like any of them had lived long enough to really miss the chilly, Gallic cunt.

Angel was so consumed in her deliberations as to who was going to be the 'lucky' recipient of her attentions and her blood drenched memories that she didn't even notice when Katie finished her conversation, turned to her and stared at her as intensely as she was staring at Fleur.

"I know that veela girl's gorgeous and all, but you know it's really not a good idea to stare at her like that ... " Katie was once again at her side and pointing across the table to where Mari, Carina and Hermione were sat. " ... especially not with your girlfriend watching you."

She did the air quotes thing with her fingers at the mention of the word 'girlfriend', which was just guaranteed to put Angel in an even fouler mood than her insinuations about her wanting to hook up with her younger self. Or vise-versa. Either way, it was a particularly stomach churning thought. And Mari wasn't exactly helping the Gryffindor rumour mill by being so entirely un-subtle in her googly eyed and constantly sighing adoration of the 'raven haired goddess of Darkness' that was being so sweet and protective of her.

The 'girl-who-lived' was staring with open-mouthed, drooling hunger, not at her loaded plate, but at the firm, tanned and very on display skin of her own personal heroine and saviour. Honestly, that girl had no fucking idea of how to be circumspect in how she observed someone that she liked. Although 'liked' was probably a bit of understatement to describe Mari's obvious and borderline obsessive interest in her stunningly beautiful senior.

Oh fucking Hell. She _really_ didn't need this right now.

.

To her credit, Angel only spent about a day trying to avoid any and all interaction with her younger self before she realised just how stupid that was. They needed to get a lot of things done and avoiding Mari was not going to be a practical solution to the problem of her astonishingly fast and immense crush on the Dark witch. She was kind of hoping that it would burn itself out but self knowledge led her to surmise that probably wasn't going to happen. The 'girl-who-lived' was going to be in for some pain when Angel went public with whoever she decided to hook up with and she'd be sorry to see it happen. Unfortunately the only way to kill the crush was to crush the poor girl's dreams.

Having decided that the need to prepare her 'mini-me' for the on-coming storm that she would soon be initiating outweighed her need to keep Mari at a safe distance, Angel pulled on her big girl pants and went in search of her and Carina. Not that it would be much of a search. The two friends would more than likely be in the library pretending to do their homework while staring at Hermione and getting all goose bumpy every time the intelligent but oblivious witch chewed on her lip while thinking hard.

.

Carina Black watched a sighing Mari idly doodling pictures of a very familiar, and very naked, witch in her Potions textbook and scowled. She was finding her best friend's behaviour to be more than a little wearing just recently. Although if her affections had shifted to the magnificent (she could grudgingly admit that fact) Angel De'ath she should be pleased since it left the field clear for her to woo Hermione. And, even though they had been friends for what felt like forever, it still didn't make all of that mooning about and sighing any less annoying.

Mari' and 'Rina had been pretty much inseparable since they had found each other on the Hogwarts Express three and a bit years ago. They had recognised both a kindred spirit and a fellow sufferer in each other and, although neither of them was exactly much for conversation back then, what had passed between them was significant. Their bonding had been completed when the bushy haired force of nature that was Hermione Granger had bustled into their compartment on a mission to find a lost toad and sent them both reeling with a pair of almost instantaneous infatuations.

The two small (smaller than they should have been anyway) witches recognised that rarest of occurrences had come to pass in the strange, old fashioned railway carriage that day; The potential for a 'true' friend, one that would always be there for them come hell or high water. This potential was certainly put to the test over their first three years what with trolls, dragons, basilisks, escaped convicts and supposedly long dead Dark Lords to contend with, but their bond had held firm.

They shared the highs and lows of their new and exciting life in the magical world, their wonder at the mechanics, effects and the feelings invoked from the spells that they now cast as well as their mutual adoration for Hermione. Even this last, something that could have definitely caused problems between the closest of friends didn't lessen Mari and Carina's affection for one another as the target of their longing looks was so consistently oblivious to their painfully obvious crushes on her. Sticking together and defending each other in the face of their many problems had become a habit that neither witch intended to break, no matter how stupid or annoying they could both be.

Which was why it was such a surprise when Mari's sudden new switch in affections and consequent cute (?) stuttering and appalling flirtatiousness to their raven haired senior sparked a sense of indignation in Carina. Admittedly Angel De'ath was tall, dark and devastatingly beautiful and her power was just ... _awesome_ when the older girl really let herself off the leash and used her magic to it's full potential, but what was she? Chopped liver?

Carina Black wasn't that diminutive little scrap of a girl that had almost stumbled into the witch that she had since acquired as her best friend, anymore. She too had glossy, black hair and was growing taller and more beautiful and powerful in her own right, so why wasn't Mari looking at _her_ like she was the last oasis in the desert for a thousand miles if these were the traits she found so attractive.

In her entire, ten minute, mental rant, it never once occured to Carina that she was jealous, indeed she would have found it to be both unbelievably infuriating and highly amusing if anyone were unwise enough to mention it. But she _sooo_ was. Her current filthy mood was not improved by having the self same sixth year witch that she had just been railing about literally drag them from their seats and hustle them into a dusty, old, abandoned classroom.

.

The two confused fourth year witches sat cross legged on the comfortable rug that their House-mate had conjured for them and waited for her (not very patiently it had to be said) to get to the point. Although they soon wished that they hadn't been so patient as the conversation was neither expected nor was it very comfortable. For the embarrassed fourteen year olds running naked through the Great Hall at dinner time would have been eminently preferable to discussing their feelings for other girls. To their lasting regret, Angel's experience and ability with un-breakable locking charms ensured that running away would not be an option.

So the two red-faced girls sat through an excruciating 'talk' where the most undeniably beautiful girl in the school laid out all of the dearest held secrets and then metaphorically proceeded to slap them about their faces until they 'got it'. They were gay. Like Ellen Degeneres and Liberace gay. And to Mari's wide eyed delight and Carina's sudden, irrational displeasure, so was Angel.

The news that Hermione was not and apparently, never would be, wasn't taken as badly as any of them had feared. Mari and Carina had always known it, subconsciously but had never wanted to admit it, holding out hope that one day her feelings would change and they would be together. In whatever combination it may occur. But now, it wasn't so much Hermione's feelings that were shifting, it was theirs. Sure, they were sad that it would probably never happen but it wasn't as devastating as they had thought finding out would be. Had either of them been more experienced or perceptive they might have questioned as to why that was. But they weren't. So they didn't.

Not wanting them to dwell on their thoughts for too long, Angel decided that a quick 'Lesbian 101' lesson was in order.

"Alright then, baby-dykes, let's go over the basics that you'll need to know."

As she had hoped the two younger witches immediately focused their attention on her. Teacher mode was engaged and Mistress De'ath was off.

"There are three types of girls, and for your own sanity, you are going to need to know about and be able to identify, all three as quickly as possible."

Ah, rapt attention. This teaching thing was terribly rewarding. Angel could see why Albus loved it so much. Although he probably wasn't ever going to be giving any lectures on _this_ particular subject.

"First; Gay girls. That's you two and me." Angel flicked a finger between the three of them, indicating themselves. "We are girls who like girls ... exclusively ... and while we are extremely rare in the magical world there are _some_ others out there. Now, obviously these are the type of girls that you should focus on getting together with ... put your hand down Mari, I'll explain the mechanics of lesbian love-making another time."

Realising her mistake in saying those words as Mari's 'hungry' and, surprisingly predatory, look returned, Angel found the need to qualify that statement quickly.

"Or I can just get you girls a few books and let you figure it out for yourselves ... or ... whatever."

And now it was Carina that had that weird, hungry and hopeful look on her face, but she wasn't looking at Angel. Oh no, her own closely guarded (but more obvious than she realised) glances were all being directed at the disappointedly grumbling figure of the bundle of cuteness that was Mari Potter. Well now, how ... _interesting_.

"Second; Bi-curious girls." This prompted looks of confusion from her 'pupils'. "These are much more common but the approach can be tricky, however, satisfactory, if probably rather temporary, liasons are achievable with the right girl."

She sniggered at the piss poor attempts at taking notes that each girl was engaged in. Unknown to the other, both Carina and Mari were doodling the facial features of their newly discovered love interests in their books. Some highly entertaining and highly inappropriate thoughts of a 'daisy chain' entered her naughty brain and she smiled stupidly for a moment before chasing them away with a shake of her head and a shudder. That was just the kind of thing she was hoping to avoid doing with her younger self. Even Angel wasn't _that_ much of a narcissist.

She shuddered again and continued with the most important part of today's lesson.

"Third; Straight girls." Her face hardened. "Now then, when it comes to straight girls there is really only one rule and you need to know it forwards and backwards." Angel was determined to put the final nail in the coffin of these little idiots' ridiculous crushes on Hermione and she hammered it home with serious gusto. " _Don't_ mess around with straight girls, they will break your heart and leave you trampled and bleeding in the dirt. They might not want to or mean to, but they'll do it all the same. Best you know that now then it won't come as a surprise when you're stupid enough to let it happen one day."

It was slightly over the top, perhaps, but Angel wanted this to sink in with her young audience.

There followed a short lecture on the best way to identify the members of these three groups and some of the basics of making an approach from flirtatious inquisition to just out-right asking the damn girl to Hogsmeade or wherever. Them being noobs, however, Angel's main focus was on identification and she decided that she was going to add a short practical section to her impromptu lecture so she told them to name some girls that they knew and their sexual orientation. It wasn't going very well and her short temper was being severely tested.

"Come on bitches, there's a castle full of them to choose from, just fucking pick one. I'll make it easy for you, start with a straight girl."

"Patil."

"Which one?"

Mari's head was in her hands as she all but whimpered out 'I don't know' and their 'teacher' was getting grumpier by the second so Carina stepped in to try and deflect some of the ire from her best friend.

"Parvati."

She said it with such assured confidence that it almost deserved to be right. It wasn't.

"No. Bi."

"Really?

"Really."

"Susan Bones."

"Fuck me, your Gaydar really is for shit isn't it."

And confusion reigned again for the newly labelled baby-dykes.

"What's a Gaydar?"

This time it was Angel's head in her hands.

They were _so_ clueless it was almost funny. Well it would have been funny had she not been engaged in the very serious task of attempting to prepare them for the harsh realities that they would face once they 'came out'. Whether they ended up together or not (and knowing these two as she did, Angel would put money on 'not') they needed to know this shit. Their gormless and uncomprehending faces didn't fill her with confidence that they ever would.

"Fuck me." She didn't even need to look to know why there was the sound of strained excitement from one of her 'students' and a disgruntled huffing from the other. "Put your hand down Mari."

.

Now that she was looking for it, Angel could see how every look and every gesture from the fierce, little Black heiress allowed her fondness for her friend to shine through her grey eyes like a beacon. A beacon with a new and surprising target. Mari Potter. She wondered how different life would have been for the two of them if she and 'Rina had done what the girls were in the process of doing now. Let go of their doomed infatuation with the queen of the Hogwarts library and look around for somebody capable of giving them their whole heart and soul.

Obviously they both still had a way to go in that respect. She knew that Mari and Carina were, if nothing else, loyal to their friends and Hermione Granger was so much more than just a friend to them. They had loved her for so long that letting go was going to be a lengthy and possibly painful process, but Angel had hope that it wasn't too late for them to do it. Focusing their romantic interest on other people as well as their mutual first crush would help as well and she was pleased that they both seemed to be able to do this.

Even if Mari needed to be slightly _re_ -focused to someone that was not her.

Carina was a much better and infinitely more appropriate target for Mari's insane and insatiable lust for being totally and utterly besotted by someone but she knew the girl so well that she had to make sure it was actually possible. She needed to be sure that Mari didn't get her heart broken going after, yet another, witch who wouldn't reciprocate her feelings.

When Mari left for the bathroom, due to too much House elf provided orange soda, Angel got her chance.

"You like her don't you?"

"Who?"

"Mari."

"She's kind and gentle, but ferocious when she has to be, she's my first friend, she's my best friend. What's not to like?"

"You know what I mean Carina, she's not just your best friend ... you _like_ her."

And there it was. The flash of temper, the spark of rage in those stormy, grey eyes and the twitch of her wand hand. _This_ __was the Carina Black that she remembered so well and adored so much, the imperfect girl who fought so hard against her own, often violent, nature to protect her privacy along with those that she held dear. A privacy that had been utterly ravaged by Angel during the course of the afternoon (all in a good cause, mind you) and this, it seemed, was an intrusion too far.

"Shut your fucking mouth about Mari. You don't know her and you _don't_ fucking know me!"

Carina got right up in her face, wand hovering dangerously below the taller girl's chin before she realised who it was that she was threatening, got ahold of herself, turned and made for the, now open, door. Angel didn't try to stop her. She just smiled a secretive smile to herself as she watched the enraged girl stomp away up the corridor.

.

Monday morning's breakfast at the Gryffindor table was a little awkward after Carina's blow up and almost duel with one of the most feared and respected witches in Hogwarts but, being who she was, she was in no mood to apologise. Not that Angel thought that she should. In fact, she would have been disappointed if Carina had. Angel had pushed her to the point at which she would break and reveal herself and then nudged her over the edge with no mercy whatsoever. She had deserved the girl's rage and was pleased to see it since it confirmed her suspicions about her growing attachment to Mari.

Speaking of whom.

"Mari, how would you feel about going on a trip to Gringotts and Diagon Alley with me?"

Carina glowered and growled at this invitation, violently spearing a piece of bacon on her plate while her friend screamed and almost yelled into her ear.

" _Yessss!_ ... er ... I mean ... really? Can we do that then, skip class and go to London?"

Morgana's tits, Angel didn't remember ever being this totally fucking adorable. Or this totally fucking naive.

She obviously hadn't read the Tournament rules then. Angel hadn't either back when she was in Mari's situation, to be fair, but then she had never actually been given them, whereas this was the first thing that she had insisted on in that first meeting after the selection ceremony. That _all_ of the Champions should receive a copy. Yes, they were long and yes, they were incredibly tedious, but there were a few little gems hidden away in there that made the dull read all totally worth-while.

Like the fact that they weren't obliged to attend classes like the other students, or even obliged to stay in the castle. As long as they made the argument that it was legitimate 'Tournament business' they were free to go where they liked and do as they pleased to 'train'. It was a pretty awesome loophole for the Champions and one which she was going to exploit for all it was worth. There was nothing on Earth that could have convinced her to go to another of that bastard Snape's classes and she was hoping that she could influence Mari to skip them too. She didn't need to be around that nasty piece of shit for any longer than was strictly necessary. Certainly not when there were much more fun and useful things to be doing.

The Deputy Headmistress had kicked up a small amount of fuss at the girls taking, what she considered to be, a totally arbitrary and un-necessary trip to London rather than attending lessons as they should have been doing. Unfortunately for Minerva, however, the Headmaster was firmly behind their expedition, explaining that even they did suspect a nefarious reason for the outing there was nothing that they could do about it, since the girls were Tri-Wizard Champions.

The grumbling professor was soothed slightly by Mari doing her puppy eyes at the old girl and giving their House Head her _sincere_ assurances that she was only going to be doing some shopping for books and items that would give her some much needed help in the tasks. Then she said that her 'of age' fellow Champion had graciously and kindly offered to accompany her and keep her out of trouble and on the straight and narrow and McGonagall finally buckled.

Not that the canny old Scot probably believed a word of that drivel but she _wanted_ to believe it so desperately that it over-rode her naturally suspicious Highlander's instincts. Whatever it was, in the end, she led them to the floo in her office without anything more in the way of complaint, well, not _much_ more, anyway, and they were on their way to London.

.

She had missed this place. Diagon Alley had never really gotten back to the vibrancy and excitement that it had held in the years before the second blood war and to see it so busy and so full of noise once again was a genuine pleasure for Angel. There were stalls and shops that she had never expected to see again, like Olivander's Wand Shop and Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour and each one brought a new smile to her face.

That horrible, fucking, marble edificed, bank at the end of the Alley wiped it off pretty quick, of course. Gringotts was their first stop and while Mari went off to retrieve some galleons from her trust vault, Angel was led to a non-descript office just off of the main lobby and told to wait for an account manager.

The former Dark Lady hadn't had the best relationship with the goblins in her previous go around, they didn't like either her gender or her use of Dark and ancient magics and she had considered them to be untrustworthy, greedy and opportunistic little fuckers.

Indeed it was those very traits that led to their extinction in the midst of the World war against her with an extremely misguided plan to try and appropriate the vast wealth of the Wizarding world and hold it to ransom. Their badly timed blackmail attempt failed spectacularly as the ICW ceased all operations against her and went after the goblins with a vengeance. The one thing that apparently upset Wizards even more than a supremely wicked, Dark witch was people (or goblins) getting between them and their gold. Angel did kind of respect them for choosing death over surrender though and they had provided a useful distraction that enabled her to do yet another power up ritual.

And perhaps they could be of help again, if a touch more wittingly this time.

Being in Mari's company must have rubbing off on her, as Angel abandoned all forms of polite, diplomatic foreplay to jump headlong into setting up her bargain almost the instant that Niffler Nose or whatever other ridiculous thing he was called (she really hadn't been paying attention) walked into the office.

"Hello, I'm Angel De'ath ... " she ignored his 'I know who you are, stupid human' raise of the eyebrow and continued. " ... and I need a new vault and some cash to put in it please. Shall we say fifty thousand galleons?"

She smiled brightly at the suddenly blinking goblin, interested since she never knew that they could actually do that, who finally managed to grind out.

"And why would we at Gringotts consider your request?"

"Oh, because I'm going to help you claim the Most Ancient vault of Salazar Slytherin and everything that it holds."

"How?"

Now _this_ was more like the goblins that she was used to dealing with. Grumpy, tacturn and all business. Which was handy because that suited her needs perfectly today.

"With the soul of Slytherin's last heir." Angel stopped and considered for a moment. "Well, bits of it anyway."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She means horcruxes."

The voice that chimed into their conversation from the hidden doorway at the back of the office was dry and dusty with age but still held the ring of incredible strength. A wrinkled and ancient goblin come hobbling out of his hiding place with the assistance of his walking stick and an armoured guard or two to replace the bowing Niffle Nuts behind the desk.

"She means Tom Riddle's ... sorry ... Lord Voldemort's horcruxes." The ancient goblin who looked, to her mind, like a flesh coloured Yoda, turned to Angel and held her with his steady gaze, somewhat reminiscent of Dumbledore's. "He was the last heir, I'm assuming?"

"Why yes, yes he was."

"And you know where they all are?"

She grinned at him, all teeth and shark-like eyes.

"Why yes, yes I do."

The old goblin grinned back at her.

"Then let us do some business, Miss De'ath."

.

It took quite some time for their business to conclude and when Angel finally emerged into the lobby of the bank it was to the sight of a very bored looking Mari Potter surreptitiously casting tripping jinxes at various upper echelon wizards who were passing through. Of course, once the girl got a whiff of her presence she was up and bouncing around again, clearly delighted to be back in her new crush's exquisite company once more.

She hadn't forgotten Hermione exactly, and neither had her feelings for her just gone away, it was simply that she felt this impossible and altogether wonderful connection to Angel that seemed to breeze past them with no effort at all. It also helped the girl was, in terms of looks, straight out of her most panty dampening, wet dreams. Yes, Miss tall, dark and fantastically stacked (both up top and in back) had her forgetting, not just her first crush, but pretty much everything. Including the reason that they had actually come here; That Merlin damned Tournament.

Mari's day continued to surpass her wildest dreams when her gorgeous guide took her on a whirlwind tour of the Alley, buying her lunch and even a couple of small gifts. For the emotionally stunted and very inexperienced 'girl-who-lived' it was like being on a proper date. Her first. Ever. She was so happy with the way things were going that it took all of her will-power not to do an embarrassing little happy dance right there in the middle of the street.

It wasn't until they hit Flourish and Botts that Mari was reminded of the actual reason for their big day out. Before long even the huge, broad shouldered shop assistant that Angel had persuaded to carry their potential purchases for them as they browsed was wilting under the weight of the books. Since they didn't really care about his presence or well-being the two Champions gestured for him to hurry up as they discussed doing one more go around of the shop.

"They don't have anything in the school library about previous Tournaments so I thought we could pick up something about that along with some general purpose, useful stuff about survival, offensive and defensive spells."

"I know, 'Mione already checked for books on Tri-Wizard history and there weren't any."

Angel, thinking about their little 'chat' the day before, innocently smirked at her short companion before asking.

"Don't suppose they have a book called _Lesbianism; A History_ do they?"

Both thinking of Hermione's face if they actually managed to find such a book, Mari and Angel looked at each other and snorted. And then they began to laugh. A lot.

It was then that Angel found out that she hadn't lost all the traces of her former self. The weird, unguarded, honking laughter that came in great gasps when the two of them knew that they were unobserved. Or when they simply didn't care. She and Mari looked at each other in surprise for a moment. Then the mirth softened the emerald and onyx coloured eyes and the two of them collapsed in a renewed fit of hysterics in the middle of the shop, unaware of and not caring in the least at all the irate and disgusted glares that the more upper class patrons were directing their way.

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 **Your reviews are oh so** _ **precious**_ **to me but not necessary. I'm certainly not going to hold you guys to ransom over them.**

 **Good? Bad? Leave your thoughts although you can always PM me with ideas, suggestions, comments if you want. Dylan the Rabbit. xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yes, I know. It's been a while and what can I say? Real life and quite frankly; Worst. Winter. Ever. Still, I finally seem to have shaken off the blues that have mentally crippled me and we can all put it behind us and get going with my stories again.**

 **In regards to this particular fic I am heavily re-writing it to incorporate the general view by the people who have reviewed and PM ed me as to who they would most like to see as Angel's love interest. The lucky witch will be revealed at the end of the chapter. A chapter that I don't really remember being quite as 'lemony' as this turned out when I first wrote it but hey-ho. I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

 **All credit goes to FateRogue for the wonderful Carina Black, and my undying gratitude for generously allowing me to use her in this story as well as for being a great friend and not letting me stew for too long.**

 **As always if you have ideas, suggestions or want to see something happen then put it in a review or give me a PM. As you have seen in most of my stories I am more than happy to adapt it as we go if I find something that you've suggested helpful, useful or just plain amusing.**

 **I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.**

 **Dylan the Rabbit. xx**

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 **Fallen Angel.**

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 **4\. Frustration.**

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The evening following the Potter girls' impromptu day out in London found Mari sitting cross legged on Carina Black's bed giving her best friend all the juicy details and waxing lyrical about how brilliant a time she had had and how incredibly cool and fun and generous Miss De'ath was. In addition to her being unbelievably sexy and gorgeous, of course. All of which gushing praise for someone who was not her was making Carina increasingly and unreasonably irritated with the little red-head.

Mari's enthusiasm in describing her 'date' in Diagon Alley with the oh so perfect Angel had initially led to Carina being grumpy and withdrawn (even more so than usual) but eventually the red-head's mood wore her down. It was almost impossible to stay mad at her best friend. The girl was just so bubbly and infectious when she got all excited by something that you simply couldn't help but smile along with her as she chattered away about her 'brilliant' day out with her older crush. And not her. Which was the only down side of the situation if Carina were being honest with herself. Which of course, she still wasn't.

The word 'jealousy' had yet to be recognised in her mind as to what she was feeling in regard to her cute and adorable best friend. The word 'sleepover', however, was not only recognised but entirely welcomed as the night drew in and the two fourth years cuddled up together. It was a pretty common occurrence for them to do so, especially after they had got away from their respective horrendous summer situations, providing a sense of comfort for them both and there was nothing even slightly romantic or sexual in it.

Well, not usually anyway.

When Carina Black woke the next morning she found herself to be in a rather different and ... _interesting_ situation. Embarrassing to be sure, but still interesting. She was spooned up behind her cutely snoring first and best friend, with her face buried in a mass of that lush, dark red hair the smell of which was so familiar and made her feel so safe and content. This wasn't where the embarrassment or interest was coming from, however. No, that was reserved for the disposition of her hands that had clearly wandered in her sleep, probably due to the fiercely _intense_ dream that she had been just as clearly enjoying during her slumber.

Her left hand had worked it's way under Mari's body and up under the short T-shirt that she habitually wore to bed and was grasping firmly to the small, soft mound that was the red-head's left breast. Even more interesting was where her right hand currently was, having insinuated itself beneath the boy shorts that made up the bottom half of her friend's sleep ensemble and cupping a part of her anatomy that was equally as plump and soft although definitely more ... um ... moist. Carina blushed bright red and tried to slowly extricate her wandering hands from their respective cotton prisons. Unfortunately, even these slight movements seemed to gain the attention of the still half asleep girl laying so close next to her and Mari's own hands also slid under her clothing and clamped themselves tightly over hers. Then the embarrassment really began to ratchet up as those delicate hands slowly started to move.

Apparently Carina wasn't the only one having naughty dreams.

Just how naughty Mari's dream was was pretty obvious since now Carina's left hand was being worked against her friend's ... oh who was she kidding ... her _crushes_ ... beautifully proportioned breast while her right was being forced with increasing pressure into the cleft of her most private of places. Inevitably that pressure provided by the clearly highly aroused but still slumbering witch produced a result as the Black heiress' middle two fingers suddenly popped between Mari's outer lips and slid unresisting inside of her.

It was at this point that Carina Black found out something very interesting about herself. She was really good at fingering girls. Like, _really_ good. To be fair, she had practised rather extensively on herself for the past year or two, so she should be pretty good at it. Her fingers had curled on instinct and when the heel of her hand, working purely on muscle memory and as if with a mind of it's own, had joined the party by first uncovering and then going to work on Mari's clit with a real purpose, the results were somewhat spectacular. That warm, tight and moist home that her fingers had been so willingly and insistently invited into became decidedly wet. And soon enough wet became positively soaked.

Increasingly harsh and breathless moans escaped her feisty, little play-mate while the girl ground her rear end back into her, rubbing hard against her and causing Carina to also begin her own ascent to pleasure. Had it not been for crippling terror that Mari would suddenly 'wake up' and hate her for what she was doing she would have been rather proud of herself. Unfortunately this, along with what Mari was now murmuring to herself threw the proverbial bucket of cold water over Carina, dampening her own arousal instantly.

The names of both Hermione and Angel had been whispered into the pillow as the fourth Champion used her friend's fingers to grind and shudder her way to an obviously amazing and extremely enjoyable, if semi-conscious, orgasm but the name that Carina found that she so desperately _did_ want to hear was the one that was not forthcoming.

Despite the thrill and the pleasure that this morning's unexpected activity had aroused within her and set her heart to pounding, the only feeling that she was left with was an overwhelming sense of disappointment that _she_ wasn't the one that Mari had been thinking of. When the twitching and shuddering of Mari's comedown had finally finished and the dreamily smiling red-head turned those huge, emerald eyes on the girl that had just made her feel so _incredible_ , however, the disappointment was quickly replaced by something else.

The word 'awkward' had probably never been quite so appropriate as it was in the situation that the two teenagers found themselves this morning.

.

Back in her twenties when _she_ had been the 'girl who lived', Angel De'ath had discovered that she had a real, honest to goodness love affair with everything to do with the subject of Arithmancy. She had found it to be a fascinating branch of magic, useful in all types of enchanting and, more importantly to her, rituals and had berated herself many times for not taking it while at Hogwarts because of her poor study habits. This, of course, was not the only reason that she was in this class today. Today her motives leaned much more toward the visceral than the academic and focussed entirely upon her pretty, geeky teacher who she was intending to seduce.

Professor Septima Vector, however, was not playing ball.

Angel had gone out of her way to be exceedingly and obviously enticing and the damned specky little nerd that was her professor hadn't even noticed. Everyone else in the class had, mind you, including a wildly amused Katie Bell who was now teasing her about it almost constantly.

She had deliberately not worn her robe and jumper to class that morning, surreptitiously tightened her uniform shirt, popping four buttons in the process, worn her most provocative heels and stockings (Suspender belt included) and shortened her skirt to an almost obscene level. Her make up was dark and heavy and her hair was a perfect mix of 'salon sleek' and 'just been shagged stupid' that would have made most girls, gay or straight, wet their knickers at the sight. After all of this preparation work the now even more attractive, if rather slutty looking, Dark witch had spent almost the entire double lesson sitting on the woman's desk asking breathy voiced questions and offering what she knew to be a magnificent view of her very impressive assets.

And her reward for all of this effort?

Nothing. Not a fucking thing. Not a gasp nor a glance, not so much as a twitch from the damned woman even after she had stayed behind after the class was over, flipped up her skirt and offered her perfect, lace covered (just barely so) bottom up for 'punishment' for her forward behaviour. She hadn't even gotten a bloody detention out of it. At least that would have proved that her professor had noticed her and set things up for a more private seduction later.

But no.

Just ... nothing.

Angel was pretty sure by this point that Septima Vector was either an incredibly faith oriented and strong willed nun (and she had 'known' some weak willed ones in her life) or that she was actually, technically dead from the neck down. Either way it was not good news.

For someone, like her, who had an intricate and well thought out plan that included the woman's seduction as a major step, it was extremely fucking annoying and extremely fucking frustrating. In more ways than one. And after a week of it that frustration had finally boiled over.

Being back in a seventeen year old body, might be doing wonders for Angel's self esteem, although she had never really had any issues in regard to that before, but it came with a raft of other problems. The worst of these as far as she was concerned was the rampant teenage hormones. The powerhouse that was the former reviled Dark Lady of the Magical World was frankly, gagging for sex (with a girl, obviously) and was extremely pissed off that she was being denied it from her chosen partner. And that was very bad news for anyone unwise enough to get in her way today.

The snarling, rage monster that was always close to the surface and could give a certain muscly, green, comic book anti-hero a run for his money was ready to be unleashed upon the first target that presented itself. Angel De'ath needed a good hard fuck or good hard fight. And, happily for her, since she frustratingly wasn't in any danger of getting the former, a large Durmstrang boy grabbed at her arse in the main entrance hall, providing the reason and opportunity for the latter.

From an advantageous position on the main staircase a certain platinum blonde, French girl watched in breathless awe as the tall black eyed witch that was her main competition decorated the floor below with the bright blood of the very stupid Bulgarian boy who had just assaulted her. It was extremely impressive that the girl never once reached for her wand, which she had absolutely no clue where she even kept in those incredibly short and tight clothes, but simply beat the living shit out of the hulking, great brute with her fists, elbows, knees and feet. Even when she did deliver the knockout blow with magic, it was with an impeccably cast wordless and wandless banisher that was over-powered enough that it put her opponent through a nearby and very solid looking door.

Fleur Delacour was stunned at the skill, the power and the utterly ruthless brutality in battle of the De'ath girl. For such a lithe, young thing her kicks and punches were delivered with a quite breathtaking amount of speed and power and as for her magic, well ... that was just devastating to watch. She could literally feel it from thirty feet away, behind and slightly above her as the girl's spell connected. In a castle full to the brim with dull aura-ed, mediocre magicals, Angel De'ath was a shining beacon of light. Albeit a rather _Dark_ light.

Dark or not though, it didn't really matter. What mattered to her, and to all Veela, was power and passion in those that they hunted. It also didn't hurt if they were as amazingly attractive as the British witch. And this 'Angel' girl certainly was that, from her flat stomach, combined with womanly curves and tightly toned muscles to those teasing glimpses of tattooed skin. She was of a level of physical perfection only usually achieved by the Veela themselves. Finally, after some five years of fruitless searching, the eighteen year old French Champion had maybe, just maybe, found someone who was worthy of her.

She gave a rare smile as she watched the black haired witch pop her joints and sigh in obvious pleasure at the violence that she had just indulged in and she found herself looking forward to the chase. And her inevitable reward.

The reward for Angel following her savage beating of the unfortunate Durmstrang idiot was the Head of Gryffindor, professor McGonagall appearing and giving her that old, stern, thin lipped look of disappointment. Along with four days of detention. According to the Tournament rules, Angel didn't actually have to either accept or attend these detentions but had opted to, as long as she was allowed to serve them with the Headmaster who had readily agreed to this condition.

Albus had been expecting something like this to happen. Adding teenaged hormones to a witch so powerful that she could affect the wards of the castle and who hadn't had to deal with such issues in nearly four decades and it was almost inevitable that she would snap. Especially considering her hugely entertaining, if entirely fruitless, pursuit of his pretty, young Arithmancy professor. He had been an educator for long enough that he had seen this sort of thing quite a few times, if not maybe as bluntly delivered or as outright funny as Miss De'ath's particular situation.

Over the course of these four 'detentions', that were really just an excuse for the two of them to chat about anything and everything from history to spell crafting to chess manoeuvrers, he had got to know a lot more about what drove this fascinating witch. Any lingering doubts that Albus had about her ability to make a change for the good in their World drifted away like chaff on a summer breeze. Oh, she definitely still had her 'Dark' moments as Igor Karkaroff's young charge could certainly attest to, but her goals and her overall outlook were entirely 'light' in nature. He was getting more and more happy to leave Tom and his followers to to the tender mercies of Miss Angel De'ath.

She might not be as _actually_ merciful as he would be but she was bound to be far more effective and far more entertaining.

.

Elsewhere in the castle a few days later, Hermione Granger was feeling herself to be a very confused young witch at the moment. She was most especially confused about what had happened in the last two weeks that had led to her two best (and indeed only) female friends to behave so oddly towards each other. To be fair, she had been confused by their behaviour for quite some time now in terms of their interactions with herself, but this was the first time that they had exhibited it in respect of each other.

Mari and Carina were so tight and comfortable with each other that all of the strange blushing and the inability to form coherent sentences that they usually reserved for when in her company was so out of character between the two of them that it had her positively stumped. Anyone who had, even a passing acquaintance with Hermione Granger would have known that she could _not_ let that situation stand for long. She _would_ find out what had caused this strange rift between the two of them but now was clearly not the right time.

That she recognised this fact about timing proved just how much she had grown as a person under the influence of her friends. She still couldn't help herself when it came to making sure that those friends were keeping up in their studies, however. Classes or Tournaments, Hermione believed in the old Scouts motto of 'be prepared' and she was determined to ensure that Mari, along with her new but annoying friend Angel, were exactly that. Prepared.

"Shouldn't you two be in the library, trying to find out what possibilities there are for your first task in ... you know ... less than a week's time."

The bushy haired library queen glared at the two Champions and although Mari looked away guiltily (as usual), Angel was apparently not so easily intimidated and answered her with a casual and unaffected wave of her hand.

"No, it's okay, I know what it is."

Hermione used one of her well practised expressions that indicated to everyone that she was fast losing her patience. Mari's new friend, protector and fellow Tri-Wizard Champion clearly appeared to know this but just as clearly didn't appear to care and was enjoying playing with her. Which annoyed the bushy haired witch no end. Angel De'ath might have been the first in line when looks (and breasts) were being handed out but when it came to manners, Hermione thought that the older girl was severely lacking.

"Oh, you wanted me to tell _you_ what it is. Okay then, it's dragons."

Whatever smart comeback she had prepared died on Hermione's lips as all she could do was trip over her own tongue while repeating the important part of that statement.

"D ... dragons?"

"Mmmhmm."

"And that doesn't bother you at all?"

Angel's bright smile and nonchalant shrug and shake of the head as she put another forkful of egg onto her toast was all the indication that Hermione supposed she was going to get. Hermione was _really_ starting to dislike her. Not that that was going to stop her from trying to get the seriousness of her and Mari's situation across to them and encourage the pair to improve their habits.

"So now, my question would be ... why aren't the two of you in the library trying to bone up on dragons and how to fight or get past them?"

"Bone up."

The supposedly mature sixth year Champion only seemed to be able to focus on two of the words that had formed her sentence and snorted in her amusement. Hermione thought that she was being very juvenile. Not that she was alone in that, mind you. Even Carina had cracked a smile at that. It flashed across her face and then, when she glanced over the table and caught the exact same expression on Mari's face, it had disappeared as fast as it had come. Her two old friends locked eyes for the briefest of moments before they both looked quickly away from each other, going back to their previously noted, ridiculous, blushing and avoidance behaviour.

It was at moments like this that she really missed the simplicity of her conversations with Ronald. She might be monumentally pissed off at him at the moment but she could certainly agree with the moronic, jealous, ginger dick-head on one important point. Girls were weird.

.

Training for the Tri-Wizard Tournament was pretty brutal for Mari but her trainer was clearly not going to let her off lightly and was expecting the 'girl-who-lived' to give her maximum effort at all times. It helped that, if there was one person that Mari Potter really wanted to impress, it was this particular blend of harsh taskmaster and gorgeous witch. She still couldn't believe that she had got so lucky as to have absolutely the most talented and powerful girl in the school offering to train with her, but here she was, trading spells with the beautiful and brilliant Angel De'ath.

And Mari was pleased that they were doing this together for another reason, since Angel had suggested the simplest solution to her dragon problems, that being that she should summon her broom and use her skill on the Firebolt to fly around it. Sure, there were still risks involved in that strategy but her much admired senior was teaching her a few new spells to give her every advantage. Once she had perfected the _accio_ (summoning) charm, Angel had shown her some of those curses that would affect the dragon's senses and movement, making her both harder to see and harder to hit. It was hard on her both physically and magically but Mari persevered in her endeavour to make her crush proud of her. The only part that really troubled her was that 'Rina wasn't here learning it all right along with her and pushing her to do better with her constant support and barbed witticisms.

When they finally stopped for the day Angel posed a question that had been on her mind for a couple days now. She would have noticed the tension between Mari and Carina a lot sooner if she hadn't been quite so involved with trying (and failing) to get in behind professor Vector's infuriatingly strong defences and into her pants. Still, she had noticed now and it was time to get to the bottom of whatever problems there were between the girls as she knew how much Mari relied on the normally unwavering support of her best friend.

The two of them shared a House elf provided dinner in the empty classroom that they had been using to train in companionable silence until, knowing that Mari would never give up what happened without a push, Angel broached the subject.

"So what's up with you and Carina, Mari?"

"What! Nothing. N ... n ... nothing's up. Why would anything be up?"

Yeah, Angel wasn't buying it. If nothing else, the stuttering was a dead giveaway.

"Well something's clearly happened, you two are barely acknowledging each other's existence at the moment and I know _that's_ not normal, so ... let's try that again. What's going on with you and Carina?"

"I ... um ... _used_ something of 'Rina's."

"Really? That's it? What the Hell did you use of hers that's got the two of you into such a state?"

There were a few long moments of embarrassed twitching before the younger girl finally whispered out her answer.

"Um ... her fingers?"

At the barely audible, questioning statement, combined with the involuntary glance at her crotch and the impressive blush that Mari now wore, realisation dawned. The sudden, uncomfortable silence was broken when Angel broke out barking and snorting in that huge, honking laughter of hers before having to steady herself on the rough stone wall. When she finally managed to get herself under control, Mari really began to wish that she hadn't.

"Oh my God, you're such a _slut_ , Potter."

"I am _not_ a slut!"

Angel pierced her younger self with a knowing raised eyebrow and and a smirking gaze.

"You kind of are though, aren't you?"

" _No!_ " Mari seemed to think about it for a moment, then said in a much smaller and quieter voice. "Maybe I am though. How do you know?"

"Why don't you just tell me everything that happened and then I'll be able to give you my honest opinion."

So the brightly blushing saviour of the Wizarding World told her friend and crush everything that had happened in Carina's bed that morning, almost a fortnight ago now, in intimate and excruciating detail. Well, excruciating for her, anyway. Angel seemed to be lapping it up. A sudden vision of the tall girl's face between her thighs doing precisely that brought her complexion even closer to scarlet than it had been previously and led her to unconsciously add in even more details that she would never have told if she were paying more attention. And not perving out. Mari got herself together enough to finish the embarrassing tale and finished with a muttered.

"So? What do you think?"

Mari had hoped that the long pause was merely for her distractingly gorgeous new friend and training partner to get her thoughts in order before giving her a reasoned, sensible and comforting reply. Those hopes were cruelly dashed when the older girl finally removed her finger from those luscious, red lips (that she _sooo_ wanted to kiss) and spoke to deliver her verdict.

"Yeah, you're a big, gay slut. Like a _major_ big, gay slut. In fact, if this was a Tri-'big, gay slut' instead of a Tri-Wizard Tournament you'd win it hands down." Angel chuckled at her own pun before adding lecherously. "So to speak."

There could only be one response to this, punctuated with a mighty punch to Angel's arm..

"Bitch."

"Slut."

"Pots and kettles Angel dear, pots and kettles." The teasing had obviously worked and it was a much more confident Mari that suddenly smirked right back at her. "Besides, you're just jealous that I'm better at it than you. Don't think we haven't noticed how you've been trying to get all 'cosy' with a certain Arithmancy professor _or_ how she's not even giving you the time of day ... let alone anything else."

The cute, little, green eyed witch grinned evilly at her before, very maturely, poking out her tongue and flouncing off. Angel noted with more than a little pride that Mari was heading, with confidence and clear purpose, for Gryffindor tower, hopefully so that she could talk things out with Carina and get the two of them back on to an even keel. She knew that her younger self would need the strength that her best friend and inadvertent sex toy would provide before long.

.

Mari Potter, did indeed head straight back to the tower in search of her friend.

She slammed through the portrait hole and scanned the room searching for the familiar black hair and stormy grey eyes of her target. Having acquired her, she squared her shoulders, set her jaw and marched over to set things right.

.

It had been the week and six days from Hell for Carina Black.

And Hell was exactly the right word for the situation in which she found herself at the moment. Being on the outs with the girl that she regarded as her one and only 'true' friend, the girl who understood and shared in her pain in a way that nobody else possibly could have, had taken a huge toll on Carina. She was so un-used to not having her best friend and confidante there to laugh with, vent at and generally share the minutiae of her daily life with that it had totally knocked her world off it's axis. But still, Carina just couldn't seem to keep herself from either ignoring or growling at the poor girl for something that she felt was all her own fault. It was a very wearing situation.

That it was a situation entirely of her own making was no comfort at all. But then having your own brain screaming at you to stop being such an arse and a coward and just fucking talk to the girl seemed to only add to the list of recent stupid decisions that were mentally weighing the secret Black heiress down.

Speaking of her status within the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black it was to her, until recently, imprisoned natural father that she had turned in attempt to receive some of that much needed help and comfort. Sirius and his peculiar brand of faux cheerful optimism (which was obviously a front to mask his utter confusion and cluelessness) really was, of course, spectacularly unhelpful with this kind of situation that required a deft and delicate touch. After a decade of incarceration in Azkaban, followed by another year on the run, the old dog's emotional muscles were even more atrophied than his physical ones. All of their late night floo calls and letters were, therefore, utterly useless.

In the end, Carina realised that she was on her own and it was her problem to sort out so she might as well just face up to it. As well as facing up to her new, confusing, romantic feelings for her 'best friend' that their midnight fumblings had brought suddenly tumbling into her head. It was in this mind-set that Carina decided on a course of action that both thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. She had all but determined to suck it up and talk to Mari to clear the air between them and let the chips fall where they may when the red-headed whirlwind herself came barrelling through the portrait hole and marched straight up to her.

With the barest word of a commanding 'come with me' out of her mouth, Mari had grabbed her by the hand, literally dragged her up to their dorm and bundled Carina on to her bed where they now sat opposite each other. At the scene of the crime. A crime that she really did not want to be reminded of. Carina Black glared, a little bad temperedly but mostly confusedly, at her red haired captor. Somewhat surprisingly, Mari glared right back at her before extending a finger and poking her in the chest. Hard.

"I know it's awkward and I know you don't want to talk about it but that is _exactly_ what we are going to do Carina Black. Talk."

To be honest, most of the 'talk' was from Mari. Carina was stunned, embarrassed and moved by her first ever friend's absolute determination to, not so much get back to where they were, after the _incident,_ since they both knew that was an impossible task, but to accept what had happened and find a way to move on from it. That Mari didn't hate her and was willing to sit down with her and search for a way to keep the two of them together was almost making her weep with relief. And she had to admit that the new found confidence the red-head was displaying was kind of sexy.

No.

Not sexy.

That kind of thinking was exactly what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. Carina knew that she needed to be strong now and ignore these feelings and urges that were threatening to destroy her most treasured friendship with the girl that she considered to be family. No matter what temptations the pretty, little minx was giving her with those wide, soulful, green eyes and slowly undressing on her bed like she was doing now. Wait. What?

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping over."

"Oh." Carina tried very hard not to stutter like a moron and to her own extreme annoyance failed miserably. "Umm ... I ... I promise that ... what happened ... well ... that is to say ... er ... it won't happen again."

And she was determined that it wouldn't. She would tie her hands together behind her damned back if she had to, but she would _not_ be risking her and Mari's friendship by getting all handsy again. It was too important to her. All these determinations and good intentions, however, would be in vain since someone else had an altogether different plan for what was going to happen tonight. As Mari curled into her favoured 'little spoon' position she felt a sudden nervousness as she all but whispered out.

"I wouldn't mind if it did happen again."

It was said so quietly and so sweetly that Carina thought she might have misheard it but when Mari's hand reached back, gently took ahold of hers and pulled it possessively across her stomach she was certain that she hadn't. A certainty that was reinforced when, after a few minutes of lazily drawing circles on the red-head's stomach with her finger, her hand was gripped again and pushed firmly and inexorably lower.

And this time when the other girl shuddered through her shattering orgasm there was only one name that left her lips.

" _Oh, 'Rina!_ "

Oh Merlin.

Carina didn't know what this made them, whether they were girlfriends, friends with benefits or just occasional fuck buddies (not that she would have recognised at least two of those terms) but she knew that she wanted more of it. Had she been less emotionally stunted due to her troubled upbringing, the volatile witch would have recognised these feelings for what they were and would have known beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was in real trouble now.

Carina Black was now Love's bitch and was about to discover just how cruel and demanding a Mistress she could be.

.

It was the morning of the first task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the entirety of Gryffindor House had turned out to encourage their Champions and to make sure that they ate a decent meal before what was going to be a trying and physically draining day for them. That this show of House solidarity was, for the most part, inspired by the all too real fear of what one of those Champions could and very likely would do to them if they didn't make such a showing was of no consequence to Angel. She didn't care why they did it so long as they gave little Mari the support that she so desperately craved from them.

Not that the girl in question seemed to either notice or care. No, Mari Potter was far too busy whispering and giggling with Carina Black, whose arm she had been permanently attached to for the last day and a half.

This development had resulted in a huge sigh of relief from the entire population of Gryffindor tower, none larger than from Hermione Granger who was just pleased that she would no longer have to referee for the two of them. Whatever it was that her lunatic friends had been fighting about appeared to be over now, thank God, and they were back to ... well, not normal exactly. There was far too much intimate innuendo and slightly inappropriate touching for 'normal' but since it was better than being caught up in the middle of their recent, silent, bitch fight, Hermione was happily counting it as a win.

That happy was quickly chased away, however, when they received a very unexpected guest at their Saturday breakfast. Hermione had nothing against the French in general, but she did have a problem with this particular young woman and her 'princess' attitude. The stunning good looks and easy way that she interacted with people didn't exactly help with her irrational feelings of enmity either. Thankfully it turned out that the cold, Gallic tart was here for someone else. Mentally berating herself for her intolerance and 'language', the Gryffindor library queen tried not to make it too obvious that she was listening in.

Angel, not being at all worried about the task today, had been spending this breakfast time in quiet reflection of her progress since she had arrived at Halloween. In the plus column, she had made great strides in taking Mari's romantic attentions off of Hermione (the new interest in Carina was unexpected but still made her rather happy) and also in boosting the red-head's skills and self esteem. It wasn't all good news, of course. Her dismal failure in regard of shagging professor Vector was grating on her mightily and had brought that part of her plan to a crashing halt. Although this morning's activities, in front of various Ministry bigwigs and members of the press should hopefully get things moving again. It was just a shame that she wouldn't have a highly inappropriate witch to snog at the conclusion of her 'performance'.

Her ruminations on her progress were interrupted by a breathy voice in a familiar and much hated French accent.

"You are Angel, yes?" A slender hand stroked the time traveller's bare thigh, coming to rest just above her knee and lingering there. "It is a most apt name for one so 'eavenly looking."

It was Fleur Delacour and she was looking at Angel with a very thinly veiled look of predatory _hunger_.

Oh my God. Was she _flirting_ with her? One look at the two fourth years across the table who were now engaged in a parody of just that, limp hands touching arms and faux kissy faces told her that Mari and Carina certainly thought so. Angel gave them a 'look' and a one fingered salute before dragging that same finger underneath her nose and inhaling deeply, thus turning their mocking and laughing into blushing and hiding while she muttered out a quick 'hello' and introduction.

If Fleur noticed this, it didn't appear to phase her at all.

"You will call me Fleur ... and you will call me tomorrow."

That entitled statement, spoken with the arrogance of one who knows how perfect and beautiful she is would have been enough for Angel to dismiss this as a weak attempt to try and put her opponent off of her game. But. That look. There was no mistaking it and the Dark witch just couldn't get it out of her head. She wasn't giving up without a fight, mind you.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because after I win the first task this morning you will be so impressed with my … _prowess_ … that you will be begging me for a date. And if I am feeling particularly generous, I may actually allow you to take me out."

"Yeah, like _either_ of those things are going to happen."

Fleur sensed a challenge and just couldn't resist pushing

"Hmmm. A wager then. When I beat you in the first task today you will present yourself at the Beaubaxtons carriage at eleven tomorrow morning and you will take me to lunch in your 'Ogsmeade."

"And what do I get if I beat your score?"

The French girl paused for a minute and appeared to be thinking of how best to respond to the possibility of this highly unlikely (in her mind, anyway) outcome.

"Well, it must be very frustrating for you putting out all this effort to capture the 'eart of the lovely Professeur only to 'ave her evade you so easily, non? So your reward for beating my score will be that you finally get to ... _score_."

"Good luck with that, at this point I doubt that even your Veela powers could get that clueless bint to so much as notice me let alone get me in her pants."

Fleur's light laughter tinkled annoyingly, but still somehow delightfully and prettily, in Angel's treacherous ears.

"Oh no, ma Ange', you would not be scoring with 'er but with someone much more _worthy_ of your time."

The slender hand one again reached across beneath the table and sharp fingernails raked up Angel's thigh before giving a squeeze that was positively chock full of promises of naughtiness to come.

For the first time in a great many years, the feared and reviled 'Angel of Death' was lost for words in the face of pretty girl's flirting. Fucking teenage hormones.

As McGonagall appeared and chivvied the three Champions at the Gryffindor table out of the Great Hall to prepare, Angel realised that if it truly _was_ the French girl's intention to put her off her game, she had succeeded spectacularly well. Any reservations that she may have had that Fleur Delacour was any less of a petty, evil, Gallic bitch than the last time around were immediately dispelled. Although she found herself suddenly very interested in trouncing her in the first task just to wipe that supercilious smile off her face ... and definitely not so that she could 'score' with her. Oh no. Not even slightly that.

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 **Your reviews are oh so** _ **precious**_ **to me but not necessary. I'm certainly not going to hold you guys to ransom over them.**

 **Good? Bad? Leave your thoughts although you can always PM me with ideas, suggestions, comments if you want. Dylan the Rabbit. xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**After a truly terrifying, year long battle with my own brain I am finally back again with an update for you lovely and very patient people. Yes, I know that it's been a while but this year has been truly appalling for me in more ways than one and writing has been literally the very last thing on my mind.**

 **In regards to this particular fic I am heavily re-writing it to incorporate the general view by the people who have reviewed and PM ed me as to who they would most like to see as Angel's love interest so it's going much slower than I had hoped or intended.**

 **All credit goes to FateRogue for the wonderful Carina Black, and my undying gratitude for generously allowing me to use her in this story.**

 **As always if you have ideas, suggestions or want to see something happen then put it in a review or give me a PM. As you have seen in most of my stories I am more than happy to adapt it as we go if I find something that you've suggested helpful, useful or just plain amusing.**

 **I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.**

 **Dylan the Rabbit. xx**

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 **Fallen Angel.**

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 **5\. There be Dragons.**

.

After her competitor's ... _interesting_ ... comments over breakfast, it took a while for Angel to get her head back on straight. Something she only managed on the long trek down to the edges of the Forbidden Forest and its newly constructed arena. It hadn't occurred to her in her initial run through just how much money had been spent on the whole Tri-Wizard Tournament business but looking around with older and more experienced eyes she could see to what lengths the Ministry of Magic had gone to in order to show off Magical Britain's wealth and power to it's neighbours. Something that she couldn't really fault them for since she was planning to do exactly that, albeit on a somewhat more personal level, today. Angel might be a ritually enhanced, mass murdering former Dark Lady, as well as something of a narcissist but she had never been a hypocrite.

What she had previously thought to simply be a shallow pit was actually a state of the art arena, carved out of the earth with some pretty impressive transfiguration and layered with a huge amount of charms. Most of these were enchantments to keep the dragon contained and the spectators safe, although there were a few inside the protective ward 'dome', the most interesting of which was the anti-summoning charm. Although, luckily for Mari's plan, it only affected the egg and not the whole arena or the 'girl-who-lived' would have been totally screwed. Somebody on the organising committee clearly had a great deal more brains and common sense than she remembered. Although, to her slight embarrassment, Angel hadn't even thought about even attempting to simply cast an _accio_ at the golden egg, either back then or now.

But whatever. Even from this distance Angel could tell that the first task arena was a highly complicated and very expensive display of top level warding at its finest.

It was the stands that really caught Angel's attention. The ones that the school used for quidditch matches were fairly basic, plain wooden constructions, but these looked like they had been especially commissioned just for the Tournament. After all, parents and invited guests couldn't be really expected to rough it like the students when self warming padded and cushioned options were available. Parents like the stuck up Malfoys and the obnoxiously over-bearing Molly Weasley (opposite ends of the bigotry scale but still as utterly hateful as each other), invited foreign guests, members of the government, including the DMLE as well as hordes of press expected to be well treated to the best available.

Of course one 'guest' who wouldn't be taking advantage of these luxury seats was the ridiculous man-child that was her (and Mari's) god-father, as well as Carina's dad. Sirius sat in his animagus form looking all bedraggled and forlorn and so skinny that she was actually starting to feel quite worried about his health, both physical and mental. That dubious mental state was clearly demonstrated by the daft old dog being anywhere within a hundred miles of the veritable army of red cloaked Aurors who were here to provide added security to the 'great and the good' of magical society that were gathered here today. Not to mention the canny and highly observant figure of the Head of the DMLE herself, Madam Amelia Bones.

She had a plan for Sirius Black and it _didn't_ involve him either getting thrown back into Azkaban or locking lips with a fucking Dementor.

Looking at the clueless idiot watching their progress from the edge of the forest, Angel spent an inordinately long time wondering how the bloody Hell she was going to get him out of there and to safety when an idea popped suddenly into her head making her do a mental face palm at it's simplicity. The memory of an extremely loyal but just as insane 'friend' who was currently employed at Hogwarts had just leapt to mind. Dropping back and finding a quiet spot to enact her plan was rather more difficult than it sounded but she finally managed to escape from the attentions of the two other witches marching towards their upcoming task to do so and quietly mutter out.

"Dobby."

"The great Mistress Marigold Pott … "

Dobby broke off with a start and there was a long pause punctuated with a look of terrible confusion on his odd face as the World's strangest house elf attempted to reconcile the face of the girl who had called him with the way her magic felt. Then his head swivelled so fast that it made an audible crack and his bulbous eyes eyes were drawn behind him to the smallish, red-headed witch stiffly putting one foot in front of the other and swinging her arms resolutely. His confusion only increased at the sight.

"Miss Mari is over there … _and_ over here too. _She_ is Miss Mari … but _you_ is also Miss Ma … "

"Be _silent_ Dobby elf. You _know_ who I am, but you must ... not ... say ... it. Not now, not _ever_. Do you understand Dobby?"

He nodded dumbly as the tall, dark human who _was_ , and yet was _not_ , the greatest, most wonderful witch in all of the World cut off him with her hissed out command. It made him quiver with both pleasure and a sense of anticipation as she seemed to give him a very calculating look before smiling slightly and nodding. Although to him or herself, the elf wasn't quite sure. Whatever the case there was an unfamiliar feeling of hope rising in Dobby's chest as this infinitely more scary version of the great and wonderful Miss Mari Potter continued.

"Dobby elf, I have a question for you." She paused dramatically. "Do you wish to be bonded to me? That is the newly formed and Gringotts registered Magical House of De'ath." Angel was very careful about giving this clarification but still anticipated his enthusiastic and probably very loud response by directing. "Do not speak, a simple nod of acceptance will suffice."

The 'nod' had his ears almost separating from his head at its vehemence.

"Good. Now, in order for you to formally ascend to the offered position I need to test both your loyalty and your competence." She really didn't, but the little guy appeared to be eating up this 'strict Mistress' act and, to be honest, she was quite enjoying the game too so Angel figured she might as well get something good out of it. "Do you see that big, scruffy, black dog?"

"The dog what is not a dog?"

"That's the one." She confirmed with a winning smile. "I want you to take him to the 'come and go' room in the castle, then I want you to feed him, water him and, most importantly, _wash him_. _Thoroughly_." The smile became a decidedly evil. "After that, I want you to get him to sleep ... and I don't care _how_ you do that ... so that he'll be well rested when I come and talk to you both tomorrow night at Eleven O'clock sharp. Understand?"

"And then youse will do the bonding?"

"And then, _if_ I decide that you have completed your task to my satisfaction, I'll complete the bond, yes."

"Yes ma'am, Mistress Deffie ma'am."

The clearly ecstatic little elf gave a wide eyed look of utter bliss, snapped up a sloppy salute and popped noisily away, even managing to 'elf apparate' as enthusiastically as he did everything else. Angel just sighed at this as well as the manic, little elf's wholly predictable butchering of her 'new' name and attempted to suppress the feeling that she had either just made a brilliant move or a truly terrible mistake before shrugging it off and hurrying to catch up with the others.

.

The interaction between the various players in the Champions tent had gone nothing like it had in the previous time line. Although that was mostly due to her selection as the Hogwarts Champion, it had to be said.

From the second that she had sauntered in, last and just ever so slightly late (thanks to her negotiations with Dobby), Angel had held centre stage, intimidating some, manipulating others and avoiding that extremely irritating (but extremely gorgeous) French girl like the plague. The small distractions that these actions caused were, in fact, simply a ruse to allow her to have a little magical rummage in the sack full of model dragons that the drooling idiot Bagman was holding so tightly. Like gripping it to his chest was going to keep someone of her power and skill level out of it. Identifying them with her ritually enhanced mage-sight, she sorted and tagged each model with the magical signature of who she wanted to face it and the order that she wanted them to go in.

The other judges entered shortly afterwards, the instructions were given and the various models removed by the people that she had selected for them be, all according to plan and with minimal fuss. Albus Dumbledore simply smiled at her as he sensed her magic on the bag and let it happen the way she wanted, trusting that his 'new' friend and ally knew what she was doing, before hurrying them all out to the stands to watch the fun. It was all so childishly simple. A bit like Ludo Bagman himself, really.

.

One by one, the Champions emerged to great applause for the first 'creature' task of this Tri-Wizard Tournament, each tackling it in their own style with varying degrees of success.

Krum full on attacked the Chinese Fireball, blinding it and losing a good many points for the damage done to it's nest as well as for the nasty burn to his left shoulder and arm he received for his efforts. Delacour put both her Welsh Green and a good many of those in the stands to sleep with her specialised charm but still managed to get her skirt set on fire as she left with her prize. Mari Potter gave the judges the biggest surprise by executing a perfectly cast summoning over a huge distance before treating the crowd to a thrilling display of Arial acrobatics and pin-point casting to retrieve her golden egg from the Swedish Short-snout without a single injury.

Then Angel De'ath strode out into the arena intent on making sure that all eyes were on her before she started her campaign today. Indeed, rather gratifyingly, the crowd seemed to be holding its collective breath, knowing that this was the largest and most dangerous of the dragons by a long way and silently wondering how on Merlin's green Earth she was going to get her egg from the fiercely protective beast. Ensured of their complete and unwavering attention, Angel carelessly dropped her cloak on the ground displaying another of her scandalously skimpy and risqué outfits. It was a a daring, skintight, PVC, sleeveless and strapless sort of, semi-catsuit that moulded itself to her body showing off every delectable curve and cleft. The wide black belt with it's silver skull motif buckle and thigh length, stiletto heeled boots that finished off her ensemble were just as tight and just as scandalous to the staid sensibilities of her fellow witches and wizards. The outfit was also artfully shredded in places to give tantalising glimpses the lightly tanned skin contained so deliciously and provocatively within and contrasting nicely with the deep red and black that made up its colour scheme. It failed on almost every level as armour but then again protection had never been it's purpose. It's one and only purpose was to inflame and excite all those who saw her in it, since her skill in both magic and battle rendered such protection pointless in her not so humble opinion.

Judging the success of her chosen attire by by the gasps and wolf whistles that punctuated her slow, swaying and incredibly sexy approach, Angel walked straight up to a bloody great Hungarian Horntail dragon, put one hand on her hip, cocked her head and in a display total arrogance, smirked before smacking it firmly across the snout with nothing more than her closed fist. Of course, she had first cast a wandless and wordless 'barskin' spell on said appendage but the watching sheep weren't to know that. Hence, the relative silence of the audience that had been in place with her unconcerned sauntering to her current 'stupidly dangerous' position was suddenly broken and all Hell was let loose.

.

The ultimate accolade for her display was it was the always polite and prudish Hermione Granger's voice that she picked out as screaming;

"Oh my fucking God!"

Similar expressions of surprise, horror and most especially lust were issuing forth from just about every section of the crowd. Surprise that she had just slapped a dragon, horror that having done so she was going be the first spectacular casualty of the tournament and lust because of what she was wearing would be considered immodest as even beach wear to most magicals let alone here in the sight of so many of her admirers. And there were a _lot_ of them. The wolf whistles and hollers from this particular set of young men (and a select few women who simply couldn't manage to restrain themselves, even in public) pretty much drowned out the gasps and screams of everyone else.

To be totally fair to them, it wasn't like the young woman's choice of attire today didn't deserve the reaction. In fact, she had picked this outfit out specifically _because_ it would cause such an uproar.

It was certainly causing a bit of a stir in the Gryffindor section of the stands where an open mouthed Carina Black was staring at her sort of girlfriend's not so secret crush with eyes that were the size of saucers. She had been looking at the discarded cloak to start with so, starting at ground level those stormy eyes widened as they tracked up Angel's body. From the tall heeled, lace up boots that extended past her knees onto a pair of artfully ripped, shiny pants that were so tight that she may as well have not been wearing them at all, past the low, wide silver buckled belt and on to an expanse of taught, toned, bare skin. As for the top … well it barely deserved the name. A couple of strategically placed strips of black leatherette that _somehow_ managed to hold together enough to cover the bare essentials.

The Black heiress' riveted gaze was on its way back down from Angel's smirking lips and being mesmerised by the long pig-tail of her braided hair swinging just above her clearly underwear-less (and magnificent) arse when Hermione claimed her attention with swift elbow to the ribs.

"Er Carina. Is it my imagination playing tricks on me or did she really just spit in that bloody great dragon's eye?"

"No, not your imagination 'Mione, she really did."

Carina smiled ruefully at the extremely hot and equally insane young woman in the centre of the arena who was currently engaged in the seemingly futile activity of trying to stare down a pissed off, sixty foot dragon. She chuckled quietly at the sight and gave her usual, snarky, assessment of the situation.

"Crazy bitch. I mean, points for style and all ... but still … crazy _bitch_."

And it wasn't like anyone watching was about to disagree.

.

Angel stood, hands on hips, ignoring the crowd, cocked her head and regarded the huge, Hungarian Horntail who was now staring balefully back at her with wisps of white smoke drifting lazily from her nostrils with each breath. She had spent so much time helping Mari with her training that she honestly hadn't put much thought into how she, herself was going to complete this task. Meh, fuck it, route one then. Wings plus elder wand plus sword of doom, multiply by extreme violence and a bit of showing off and the result would be the same as any other clever and complicated plan that she could come up with; One golden egg and one dead dragon.

"Come on then, you big bitch of a flying worm, let's get this party started."

After being slapped for a second time the dragon seemed to agree that it was, indeed, the appropriate time to, not so much start, but finish this. With a great roar and a sudden snap of it's huge jaws, the Horntail lunged forward, intent upon gobbling up the annoying human who had just dared to both lay a hand on her and then call her a worm.

That she didn't taste such a small meal was to be expected, of course, but the mouthful of dusty earth and broken rocks that she ended up with instead of her target wasn't. How the Hell had the tiny human, that had been incredibly stupid enough to provoke her, done that exactly. It was something of a surprise. She leaned back and eyed the girl with with her suddenly narrowed, slitted eyes.

The wings were also something of a surprise. None of the humans that she interacted with (tried to eat) previously at the reserve had them. It did explain how the small meat-bag had managed to avoid it's inevitable date with her gullet though.

She roared her mighty challenge again and let loose with a torrent of fire, intending now to incinerate this insignificant, albeit slightly more interesting than usual, human and turn her into nothing more than a pile of ash. Only to be confused once more as the target of her magnificent primary weapon simply knelt, covering herself with those fragile looking black wings and endured the deadly fire.

Then, shockingly, once the smoke had cleared, the increasingly annoying human prey who simply refused to die, stood and allowed a sudden wind to blow the ash from her body before grinning widely at her.

It was at this point, and possibly for the first time in the history of her species, that the Hungarian Horntail dragon started to think that she might have bitten off a bit more than she she could chew here.

.

This time the screams of the crowd were not drowned, or even interrupted by, any other extraneous sounds. Other than the deafening roar and hiss of the massive, conical gout of dragon-fire currently burning everything in it's path to a blackened crisp, that is. The screams gradually faded to moans as the seconds dragged on with no let up in the inferno, however, and the horrified attendees of this ancient tournament started to mourn their, obviously dead Champion.

They looked on in surprised awe as, with a large and scarily psychotic grin plastered all over her face, the former Dark Lady rose from her previously prone position, unfurled her wings, shot some twenty or so feet up into the air and activated her forearm tattoos. The elder wand and her huge onyx sword popped from their respective dimensional hidey holes and slapped noisily into Angel's hands. The gasps of the large crowd had now switched from scared for their Champion's safety to seriously impressed. When she flew straight at the surprised dragon's head casting and swinging as she went, those gasps suddenly turned to cheers as the multitude in the stands realised just whose safety they should really be worried about.

"Oh that poor dragon, I do hope that Miss De'ath's nargle infestation doesn't make her feed the poor thing to the bilbering humdingers."

Hagrid, the Hogwarts Care of Magical Creatures professor, looked down at the waif like blonde in Ravenclaw blue by his side and couldn't help but agree. Well, with the first part of her statement anyway. He'd been involved with creatures for almost his entire seventy some years and he'd never once heard of a nargle or a bilbering humdinger which meant that his education was seriously lacking. Or the girl was more than a touch ... er ... unstable. Either way, he decided that he couldn't really take the chance and made a mental note to schedule a talk with her at a later date.

The half giant then shook it off and went back to staring in horrified concentration at what the skimpily clad demoness was doing to that 'poor dragon'. Memories of little Norbert making him tear up almost as much as the horrifying slaughter that was happening below.

.

Amongst all of the crying, screaming, shouting and applauding from the people in the stands there was one who sat seemingly un-moved by all of the hullabaloo around him. This wasn't because Albus Dumbledore was _actually_ at all un-moved, rather it was more that he was concentrating on schooling his face so as not to show too much in the way of blatant bias to the young woman who had very quickly become his all-time favourite student of his long career. That the expression that he was managing to maintain was somewhere between that of a beaming, avuncular smile and a wicked smirk was a testament to his mental fortitude, given the means that Miss De'ath was using to entertain them all this morning.

As for the young woman in question, Angel was in her full, glorious 'Dark Lady' mode now, dodging, swooping and diving around the Horntail on her great, black wings that seemed to glitter and gleam in the mid-day winter sunlight.

The spells that erupted from the intricately carved and very recognisable wand in her left hand flowed and eddied around the massive body of her foe and were as black in colour as they were in nature.

The dragon shuddered visibly as it's scales shimmered and softened under the after effects of that deadly barrage before being cleaved apart by that ominous, onyx sword, carving great, bloody rents along its gory path. The huge weapon struck finally with deadly accuracy and even deadlier intent as Angel flipped over and around to land behind the beast's head and plunge it deep into the soft (relatively so) spot between skull and neck.

Albus felt a twinge of disappointment that his new 'friend' had found it necessary to dispose of such a magnificent creature in this manner but it was quickly dissipated as he looked around to the horrified faces of his fellow magicals. If her plan was to attract the eye of and then piss off and scare shitless as many people as possible (and Angel had previously assured him that it was) then it had worked spectacularly well. Some of those about him were screaming in horror, others fainting in lust and admiration and still others were baying for her blood for committing such a crime.

Angel De'ath had certainly made a bold opening move and a simply terrifying statement of intent towards the Death Eaters and other assorted bigots. He decided that if none of them actually knew or realised that yet was not his problem. After a lifetime of preaching about forgiveness and the 'Greater Good', the old headmaster seemed to have _finally_ grasped the concept of violent and unrepentant people reaping what they sowed. And what a 'reaper' they had waiting for them, he commiserated.

But, of course, Miss De'ath had one last surprise to outrage the general public with as she hopped off the massive bloody carcass and called out loudly.

"Dobby elf."

The odd elf appeared at her feet immediately and saluted her. Sort of.

"Mistress Deffy."

"Take my dragon to Gringotts and have it rendered for me please Dobby, then go back to your previous task."

"Aye, aye Cap'n."

After another salute and with an overly loud 'pop', elf and dragon abruptly disappeared from the area. Angel was shaking her head at her prospective retainer and vowing to have a serious conversation with him about his terms of address before they got too much more imaginative (and worse) when her attention was attracted by a burly ginger haired man leading a disgruntled looking group of equally large and ridiculously muscled men towards her. The expressions on their burn scarred faces indicated that they were not pleased with this latest development.

Her huge, shit-eating grin returned in all it's psychotic glory. This time travel business was turning out to be a surprisingly fun time.

.

Positioned at the entrance of the healers tent and staringly intently through the open flaps, a smaller audience was also enthralled by the Hogwarts Champion's impromptu and unorthodox lesson on Dragon handling. Also on her follow up practical lesson of how to deal with enraged dragon handlers who objected to her legal right to take possession of the spoils of battle.

"Fuck. Me. Running."

The mental image of Hermione that lived in her head on occasions like this would have been scolding her for using such an expression but Mari was far too busy trying to pick her jaw up off of the floor to pay any attention whatsoever to her language today.

"She is _sooo_ fucking hot."

Fleur, standing next to her short, fellow champion couldn't do anything but nod dumbly, utterly awestruck by the outrageous, yet casual, display of power and brutality. That stupid, shocked feeling didn't prevent her from positively drenching her knickers at the thought of the goddess that was Miss Angel De'ath claiming her reward once the judges scores proclaimed her the victor in today's task. As she so clearly deserved to be.

Alright, so the scantily clad sex bomb casually carving up a fucking Hungarian Horntail dragon in the arena was making her feel woefully inadequate at the moment which was a tad upsetting but Fleur knew that her time would come. At the promised and now even more highly anticipated sacrifice of her virginity to the Dark witch, she was sure that she would be back on top, so to speak. After all, she was a Veela and sex magic was kind of what they did and she was confident that her natural talent in this area would have this powerful, Dark witch wrapped around her little finger in no time.

This new found confidence lasted only to the point where the tall, blood spattered Angel strolled past them into the tent for her own medical check-up, paused, sniffed the air, smiled and gave her a saucy wink as continued on to her date with Madame Pomphrey.

The Veela had copiously and rather obviously soaked her underwear _again_ at the awesome witches close proximity.

Which was just … _embarrassing_.

To avoid any further humiliations today, Fleur decided that she would be dining in the Beaubaxtons carriage that night. Alone.

.

Unfortunately for the Beaubaxtons Champion, it was decided by the judging panel that they needed more time to discuss the performances in the first task so the scores would be given in the Great Hall of Hogwarts before dinner that night. And their disagreement became obvious when those scores were finally announced to the press, student body and their invited guests. They were received with quiet stoicism by the Champions themselves and beaming smugness by the upper class Ministry representatives which included most of the blood purist faction and their hangers on. Unfortunately for the reputation of these fine, up-standing members of the government, they were not so well received by anyone else in the Great Hall. As was evidenced by the extreme and very vocally expressed dissatisfaction of almost all of the school, the incredulity at the outright bias of those judges causing even the Slytherins to join in the uproar.

The gathered press were more than happy to record it all. They were going to sell a _lot_ of papers tomorrow.

"I thought that we'd have one in first and one in last but I'd never have guessed it would be this way round. I mean, Bloody Hell, _Potter's_ in the lead of the bloody Tri-Wizard Tournament!"

A clearly still jealous Ron Weasley put his foot in it, as usual, with this loudly shouted comment and, as usual, Hermione was the voice of reason for her friends.

"I don't care what you score is Mari, you didn't die. That's more than enough for me."

The squeeze of a hand on her thigh beneath the table communicated to her that her 'Rina was of a similar opinion. No doubt she would express her relief and reward Mari appropriately once they had all gone to bed that night. Well, hopefully anyway.

Angel smiled happily at the 'secret' interaction of her two favourite witches. And the smile was genuine. True, she had been somewhat annoyed at first being scored so poorly by all except dear old Albus, but then she had remembered that it was simply an inevitable consequence of her highly un-planned but rather useful bad behaviour. Which, perversely, actually helped her overall plan along quite nicely.

She was just congratulating herself on her great 'victory' when she caught sight of a certain French Veela staring at her lasciviously from her vantage point at the Ravenclaw table. On noticing that she had her attention, Fleur began tapping her wrist in a pointed manner and grinned wickedly.

Bollocks.

Angel had completely forgotten about the terms of their wager this morning but now, staring at the smirking face of the infuriatingly hot Fleur Delacour, now fully recovered from her earlier embarrassment, it came back to her mind all too readily. She was going to have to present herself at the Beaubaxtons carriage in the morning and take the damned girl on a fucking date to Hogsmeade. This horrifying thought instantly killed her good mood.

And the night wasn't over yet.

.

As the other House Heads were doing the same, McGonagall had gathered her House together at the Gryffindor table after their meal was finished and given her lion cubs their Yule Ball notice before releasing them for the fully expected and unofficially sanctioned party in their tower. There were many excited squeals and just as many resigned groans as this message was relayed, the implication being that dates for all of those wishing to attend, while not required in most cases, would still be expected. The girls were mostly excited at the prospect of being asked to, what in many cases, would be their first formal dance and the boys were mostly shitting themselves at having to be the ones doing the asking.

Some of those present had clearly decided that they needed to get dates sorted out sooner rather than later and the Great Hall was now filled with nervous looking girls and boys casting furtive glances around at those they were hoping to ask to the affair. Angel chuckled to herself as a few of the braver or more fool-hardy among them, strode sweating in fear, up to their prospective partners and mostly made a horrible mess of their invitations. She was no longer laughing when she arrived at Gryfindor tower for their long awaited victory/commiseration party, having been on the end of nearly a dozen of these horrific enquiries herself, however. The fact that they had all come from idiot boys, no matter how cute their red faced and stuttering proposals were, had not exactly improved her mood.

.

The parties regularly held in Gryffindor Tower were rightly legendary affairs and this one would have been okay and even probably improved her sour mood had it not been for the sheer amount of idiot boys asking her to go to the Yule Ball with them. After she had to be physically prevented by a watchful trio of female chasers from kicking the third (or possibly fourth) one to ask in the balls you'd have thought that the morons would have got the fucking message, but oh no, they just kept coming.

Angel had decided to deal with this responsibly and maturely by getting drunk. Not falling down, incoherent drunk, she hadn't done that in decades, following an embarrassing morning after waking up in a very uncomfortable bed in a Swiss convent with two novices _and_ their Mother Superior, but just drunk enough not to care if she did 'accidentally' injure someone. This attitude on her part was noticed and it _finally_ filtered through the less than impressive brains of the males from the House of the brave that they should probably leave her the fuck alone. Or they were outright told to do so by their more observant (usually female) Housemates.

Unfortunately, this was still not the end of the still partying Gryffindors entertainment for the evening.

The last thing that Angel saw that night, as she downed her final fire-whiskey and prepared to head off to bed early, was a clearly furious Carina Black storming off up the stairs to the girls dormitory followed a few seconds later by the red faced Mari Potter. The fact that young Mari, who had today faced down an enormous and very bad tempered Chinese Fireball dragon appeared to be fighting to hold back the tears was not lost on her and she wondered what the hell the pair of little idiots were fighting about now.

And then it dawned on her.

Mari, who had been progressing nicely in the confidence stakes under her tutelage, had clearly had a bit of a relapse into the self conscious and insecure girl who would rather cut off her own arm than draw attention to herself. And honestly, she couldn't really fault the girl's reasoning since taking another girl to the Yule Ball would do just precisely that. It wouldn't matter that Angel would be doing the exact same thing or that she would be taking a great deal of the heat once they had got in there with more of her pre-planned bad behaviour, all that would be remembered was that the 'girl-who-lived' had taken a female date.

Not that any of these entirely understandable reasons were cutting much ice with her at the moment.

Carina, the sad, sweet, damaged girl who could just never seem to catch a break in her, to date (and in her previous future), harsh life was hurting more than anyone else right now and Angel felt responsible. That it was Mari, not her, that had caused this and that, despite their genetic make-ups, they were still two entirely different people in this now altered time-line was of no consequence at all. There was still an emotionally upset girl to deal with and her track record in this department was a bit, well frankly, shit.

"Oh for fucks sake! Do I have to do _everything_ myself?"

Oh well, at least she wouldn't have to scratch her head about which one of the available young hotties to ask to the Yule Ball as the decision, it seemed, had just been made for her. Which irked the former Dark Lady a little to be honest as she was used to being the one forcing decisions on other people ... well until she had killed them all, obviously.

She sighed heavily, missing the simpler if slightly more violent days of her previous existence and trudged off up the stairs after the clueless, little idiots.

On entering the fourth year dormitory and witnessing the tears and recriminations that flew, Angel cast a wandless _silencio_ at the two girls, pointed at Mari and in her most commanding voice, which she knew what did to her younger self, stated.

"You stay." Turning to the distraught looking Carina she then commanded again. "You come with me."

Having just grasped her hand and physically pulled the younger girl back down to the Common Room, clearly brooking no resistance, Angel spun around to face her captive, placed her hands on her still shaking shoulders and held her tightly, looking into those stormy, grey eyes. She didn't bother with any of the multitude of privacy charms that she had access to as she actually wanted everyone to hear the conversation she was about to have. It was time to get the Hogwarts rumour mill to work _for_ her for a change.

"Heiress Carina Black of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, it would make this poor commoner, Angel De'ath of the Magical House of De'ath the happiest woman alive if you could see your way clear to agreeing to accompany me to the Hogwarts Tri-Wizard Yule Ball as my date."

"Wha ... huh?"

"Go to the ball with me, Cinders."

"Um ... err ... "

The suddenly flustered and madly blushing girl stammered out before finally taking in a deep breath and decidedly more clearly stating.

"Okay."

There was a brief pause as Carina looked at the raised eyebrow and little smirk that graced the face of her prospective dance partner and considered that she should probably make her acceptance sound a little less grudging. You know, being as Angel had asked so sweetly and so formally and all. As much as she hated doing it, Carina, the future High Lady of House Black, _was_ actually capable of acting as her position in Wizarding society demanded and the young woman still watching her with obvious amusement certainly deserved such respect. Plus, she was unbelievably hot and being seen on her arm would be a seriously cool way to 'come out'.

"Err ... right ... sorry. I mean, it would be my great honour to accompany you to the Ball, Miss De'ath."

"You do realise, of course, that us going together is going to make your little girlfriend _insanely_ jealous."

Surprisingly, for the woman recently (to her) referred to as 'The Defiler', the soft, slightly snotty giggling and a whispered 'thanks Angel' that was muttered into her shoulder was entirely it's own reward.

"How about we go dress shopping tomorrow?"

"But don't you have a date with that _Fleur_ girl tomorrow?"

"Carina Black, you are Mari's girl … er … I mean, _best_ friend and I hope that you're starting to become my friend too. So, why on Earth would I want to hang out with that self entitled, prissy, French _salope_ when we could be having fun shopping and getting to know each other better instead?"

"Um, perhaps because she _is_ a 'salope', yes I _do_ know what that means, and if I heard right at breakfast this morning she promised to let you have your wicked way with her if you beat her score in the first task. Which, okay thanks to those idiot judges you didn't do, but I'd be surprised if she still didn't let you anyway, you know, considering the utterly spectacular and sexy display you put on out there earlier."

"You think that I'm sexy?"

"What? No I don't."

"You literally _just_ said it."

"Well, yes … I mean … no … I didn't mean that you were … it was more the fact that ..."

Carina continued to stutter and stammer for another two minutes, attempting to explain her way through how she felt about the black eyed beauty and her sweet, surprising offer letting Angel's facial expressions guide her before the other girl broke and started to grin wickedly. At this point she realised that she was being played with. It was kind of nice. Not that she was about to let the fabulous, but annoying, Miss De'ath get away with it, mind you. She did have her reputation as a no nonsense, dangerous hard-ass to uphold after all.

"Oh fuck off."

The only response that greeted Carina's clever come-back was that loud and delighted, honking laughter from the older girl as Angel dragged her off to one of the cosy, fireside couches to plan their scheduled trip. It was increasingly difficult to keep the threatening smile from breaking out on her face but the Black heiress was made of stern stuff and wasn't about to lose at this little game. Well, not easily anyway.

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 **Your reviews are oh so** _ **precious**_ **to me but not necessary. I'm certainly not going to hold you guys to ransom over them.**

 **Good? Bad? Leave your thoughts although you can always PM me with ideas, suggestions, comments if you want. Dylan the Rabbit. xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**An update after only ten days? What the Hell is going on I hear you cry. As unbelievable as it seems though, yes I have managed a new chapter this quickly. I think that my decision to finish one thing before going back and doing the others has helped. Also I'm a bit nervous at the thought of having to trawl through the four A4 notebooks chock full of the random scribblings that my deeply damaged brain has thrown up over the last eleven months, so I'm doing this first.**

 **Lots of conversation in this one which really isn't my forte. Hopefully it's not too bad.**

 **Ooh, one more thing. I want to give a shout out to a wonderful story that I recently came across;** _ **The New You, For This New World**_ **by** _ **Rin Roses.**_ **It's a really cool** **blend of dark, fluffy and fun and I strongly urge you to go and give this fic some much needed support.**

 **As always if you have ideas, suggestions or want to see something happen then put it in a review or give me a PM. As you have seen in most of my stories I am more than happy to adapt it as we go if I find something that you've suggested helpful, useful or just plain amusing.**

 **I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.**

 **Dylan the Rabbit. xx**

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 **Fallen Angel.**

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 **6\. Hogsmeade Rules.**

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A red eyed Mari Potter sat in the window seat in the fourth-year girls dorm hugging her knees while staring out at the cold, grey dawn. Needless to say, after the tearful and traumatic events of yesterday evening, she had not slept well. Or at all, in fact. Tension, regret and a sense of overwhelming sadness had made sleep a physical and mental impossibility. It also didn't help that Mari felt that this lack of sleep was the very _least_ that she deserved after her actions last night.

Upon hearing McGonnagal's announcement after dinner the previous evening, Mari had reached under the table and squeezed the hand of her naughty night-time snuggle bunny who was, as always, by her side. 'Rina had responded with a smile that could have lit up the entire Great Hall in a blackout. she had interlaced their fingers and was smiling happily back at her sort of 'girlfriend' when a sudden, cold hand of fear and panic welled up in her chest and gripped her heart as several realisations struck home.

She had to go to the ball.

As a Champion.

She had to open the ball.

With a dance.

With a partner.

With a _date_.

In front of basically the entire Wizarding World.

And the beaming, excited look on 'Rina's face told her that she was clearly expecting to _be_ that date.

The fear ratcheted up another couple of notches. Not so much at the thought of dancing with her 'girlfriend' but more at the fact that her _having_ a girlfriend would then be public knowledge. _Very_ public knowledge that would inevitably lead to another round of rude staring and hateful fucking comments. And this was just too much for the girl-who-lived to even contemplate putting up with.

She had been mostly insulated from the annual Hogwarts hate campaign this year thanks to the protective bubble that her friendship with the popular and yet incredibly scary Angel Death had cast over her. The thought of going back to those days of being the centre of attention in a very _bad_ way was now giving her a crippling sense of anxiety. And she was almost positive that this indeed would be the case if she were to take another girl as her date to such a prestigious event as the Tri-Wizard Tournament Yule Ball. This had led to her separating from Carina on the long trek back to Gryffindor tower that night and having put her newly discovered 'gaydar' skills to good use, hanging back to approach the mild mannered Neville Longbottom.

Neville, she had observed recently, was seemingly almost entirely un-interested in witches and appeared to spend most of his spare time gazing at older boys' bottoms with the keen interest of a connoiseur. She knew that look because it was the same one that she had when she followed a particularly attractive witch (or two) down the corridor on the way to some class or other. It was how she knew that she could trust him to go with her to the ball as friends rather than having the drama of an imagined and totally unwelcomed and unrequited romantic entanglement being assumed on the part of her partner. She then had the shy boy's inclinations all but confirmed when he positively leapt at the opportunity to have her as his 'beard' for the night.

Unfortunately for her, Carina had been quite curious about what her girlfriend was up to so had followed her and rounded the corner just as Neville had agreed to her proposal and the two of them were sharing a brief, platonic congratulatory hug. The look of shock and betrayal that flashed across her face was immediately followed by the all too familiar 'Black rage' expression that her close friends knew rather intimately.

Neville's grasp of the concept of 'gaydar' was clearly more developed than Mari's as well as his sense of self preservation, which he promptly demonstrated by disappearing with extreme alacrity. Mari and 'Rina's subsequent acrimonious blow-up had thankfully been postponed until the two of them had reached the relative privacy of their dorm, that journey being undertaken in stony silence, and the only embarrasssment was when Angel had swept in and intervened. And it was a good job that she had since their fight was just about getting to stage of being really nasty.

.

At One this morning, having been sobbing and wracked with guilt, the girl-who-lived, unable to sleep, had presented herself at the bed of the only witch still sober enough to have not passed out in the sixth year girls dorm for her judgement and penance.

In total contrast to what she thought might happen, Angel had listened quietly and carefully to the downcast girl's explanation of her behaviour, although she seemed to have already guessed her reasoning, before pulling the now crying again Mari into a tight hug. Had the situation been even a little different Mari would have thoroughly enjoyed having her face pressed into the impressive cleaveage of her near naked upper classwoman whom she had been crushing on for the past couple of months. But it was not different and so she simply took comfort in her senior's tight embrace and wept silently until she no longer could.

The tears had nearly started again when she felt a soft kiss being placed on the top of her head and heard a whispered 'It's okay sweetheart, I understand'. They actually did start up again when Angel informed her that, as much as she would be there to listen to and support Mari if she needed it, Carina was her priority right now.

"She's as strong as you if not stronger in some ways but in others that girl is as fragile as centuries old porcelain." Mari didn't dare to speak. Wasn't even sure that she could have, anyway. "Carina's been so happy since the two of started ... whatever the hell it is that you've started ... and now with this ball business she feels utterly rejected." Angel held her hand up to forestall the stricken looking younger girl's response. "I know that wasn't your intention but you handled it badly, you didn't talk to her about it first and now that is how she feels. And rejection for Carina is probably the the worst thing she could have imagined." Mari was held in a firm, stern, but slightly sympathetic gaze. "So I'm going to be spending some time with her over the next couple of weeks and I am, unless you manage to get your shit together, in fact, going to be taking her to the Yule Ball as my date.

Mari's reaction to this news was instantaneous and instinctive. The short girl's temper flared and her hands tightened into fists in a sudden fit of jealous rage. Whether this was directed at Carina or Angel, however, was unclear even to herself and she was more than a touch confused. It never once entered her head that this entire situation was one of her own making and she had absolutely no right to be angry at either of them. It didn't stop her though. The rage quickly gave way to tears again as Angel pulled her close once more and whispered that everything was going to be alright.

For the first time since she had known this amazing young woman, Mari didn't believe her.

.

Angel stood at the door to the Beaubaxtons carriage before breakfast waiting for the still annoying but confusingly hot Fleur Delacour to decide to grace the Hogwarts Champion with her presence.

Honestly, it was the very _last_ thing tht she wanted to be doing so soon after her very late and mostly sleep deprived night but, as with all unpleasant tasks, if it was to be done then it were better to be done quickly. She paused momentarily at the thought that cancelling a date with someone who she had previously called a 'chilly Gallic tart' and dis-liked intensely should be thought of as an 'unpleasant' task. And, of course, it was when she was right in the middle of this strange contemplation that the girl arrived.

The superior smirk that the Veela wore quickly stiffened her resolve, however.

"I'm afraid that I have some bad news. I'm going to have to cancel our date today, Mademoselle Delacour."

"Porquois?"

The arched eyebrow and thin set lips left no doubt as to Fleurs displeasure at this news.

"One of my friends had some rather upsetting news last night and without thinking I offered to take her out for a bit of a pampering session today. I'm really sorry Fleur."

And surprisingly, Angel found that she was sorry.

"I see ... and our date?"

"Would you be okay with a raincheck?"

"Raincheck."

"Oh, it means that we schedule our date for another day." Fleur did not look best pleased at this idea so Angel continued quickly before she could dismiss the idea right away. "How about I sweeten the deal a little?"

"I'm listening."

"Well, since we're both Champions there's nothing to say that we can't go a bit further afield rather than just visiting Hogsmeade we could go somewhere a little more up-market. Perhaps even another country."

She was thinking that Fleur might take the chance to show off her own country a bit, maybe with a trip to her favourite haunts in Paris. Which would be ... rather nice, actually. What Angel was not expecting was Fleur's immediate and uncompromising response to her peace offering.

"Very well. Friday night you will present yourself here and take me to Prague."

What the fuck?

"For the weekend."

What. The. Fuck?

"Oh, and do make sure to get plenty of rest ma Ange' as I intend to work you _very_ 'ard."

With that the supercilious Veela turned on her heel and swept imperiously back into her carriage leaving Angel staring shocked at the now firmly closed wooden door. She really only had one question after this very strange conversation.

"What the fuck just happened?"

.

Later that day, as promised, the Hogwarts Tri-Wizard Champion was seen escorting a certain fourth year Gryffindor from the Great Hall and out to the waiting carriages after finishing a pleasant and unhurried late breakfast. She wondered what the reactions to this action among the students, staff and visitors who had all waited for precisely this event were going to be. She suspected that they would be many and varied.

Not that she actually cared about them. Or anything else today really. The only people whose opinions mattered on this subject were Carina and Mari. She wanted the Black heiress to be open enough to it that the hard done by girl could just relax, forget about everything else and let herself have some fun … and she wanted Mari to see them having that fun and realise just what an absolute fucking idiot she had been. Happily, it appeared that 'Rina was also hoping for this last since the girl had obviously gone out of her way to drive her secret girlfriend mad with jealousy.

Carina Black was dressed to the nines in her most sumptuous and sexy (for her) outfit for their 'date' and had also taken the highly unusual (again, for her) step of actually bothering to sort out her wild hair and apply some … shock of shocks … _make-up._ It was a Hogwarts miracle that Angel had never, nor ever expected, to see in either of her time-lines. What was more, having gone to such effort, it was all too apparent that Sirius' daughter was unexpectedly ... well ... bloody gorgeous.

She might not have Angel's own, ritually enhanced, flawless skin or amazing beauty, or even Mari's soft, doe eyed good looks but she had definitely done the very best with what she had. Her angular face and sharp chin had been softened with expert shading and the dark, smoky eye-liner and shadow really made those stormy, grey orbs 'pop'. Combined with her tight black jeans, mid-heeled knee length boots (black, of course) and equally tight, midnight blue, silk shirt, the overall effect was quite stunning. Angel suspected she had willingly, or as willingly as she was ever likely to get, subjected herself to a Lavender/Parvati make-over to accomplish this amazing feat.

It did not go un-noticed that many others, of both genders, were as taken as Angel with the sight of her companion and the striking looking couple commanded all attention upon their grand entrance. At their leisurely, late breakfast in the Great Hall the insanely beautiful and equally scary Tri-Wizard Champion and her surprisingly good looking date were being stared at and whispered about by, literally, everyone. The infamous Hogwarts rumour mill was in full swing and with such a shockingly juicy story of 'forbidden passions' to spread around and gossip about, it was going to be a full day for the lucky students who were here to see it all unfold.

.

The Gryffindors, having either heard themselves or been informed by their peers over the previous eight hours or so, had all hurried down to the common room that morning to see the show. So it was that the two most talked about (since last night, anyway) girls in the House found themselves with rather a large contingent of people following them down to breakfast. Certainly a great deal more than normally made it down to breakfast on a Sunday morning.

Being as theirs was the House of the 'stupidly brave and generally affable', the reaction was one of commending their bravery in 'coming out' so publicly and also cautious acceptance of this 'new' form of dating. This attitude was helped by the sheer amount of muggle-born and muggle-raised students that seemed to get chosen by default for their House and them being more aware and accepting of homosexuality so rubbing off on their pure-blood peers. It also helped that Angel De'ath was considered to be probably the one person in the school that you did _not_ want pissed off at you. Especially if she had access to the place you slept.

As the former Dark Lady had found to be true many times in her life, fear was a great motivator.

.

The Hufflepuffs stared, not quite believing the pairing that they were seeing. This quickly passed, however, as the Badgers demonstrated that the 'House of the loyal' was more than just an over-used cliché by giving nothing less than their total and utter support to the Hogwarts Champion. She may not be a Hufflepuff but Angel De'ath _was_ the school's Champion and after yesterday's brilliant, if somewhat violent, performance against that bloody great dragon she had definitely proved that she deserved their support.

Their own prospect for the position and all around nice guy, Cedric Diggory, had even stated that he wouldn't have done half so well either Angel or, surprisingly, Marigold Potter who now led the Tournament standings. His further comment that he wouldn't have been brave enough to even consider attempting to out-fly a dragon also made the House's attitude to the youngest Champion a great deal more accepting.

In regards to this morning's turn of events and the very public, very controversial date between their Champion and the Black heiress, they were in general agreement that their stance would not shift. This was also a House heavily populated by muggle-born and raised and along with the 'force' that was the totally accepting and rather pleased Susan Bones adding her fervent support for this unusual situation, no-one dared to disagree.

It was decided that Hufflepuff House would be 'homo friendly'. The confidence that this decision gave to the very much closeted bi-sexual Miss Bones and a good few others along with her was an unintended but very welcome side effect.

.

The Ravenclaws simply studied their actions before dutifully noting it down in suddenly appearing journals and notebooks in preparation for some intense library study as to how this most unusual event would be received. Such was the way of the Eagles, they did not concern themselves with morals or motives, all they wanted were the facts.

.

The Slytherins were shocked into silence. These mostly privileged offspring of mostly traditional families had been told throughout their lives that such public displays of homosexuality were _not_ okay, no matter that they were somewhat condoned in private. Especially when one of those involved was from a _very_ old, _very_ traditional family like the Blacks. For almost all of the Snakes this could have been enough to start with the passive/aggressive bullshit that was their stock-in-trade .. were it not for two very important considerations.

Firstly, no matter their current circumstances, the Blacks were _still_ a very feared and respected, _very_ wealthy, ancient family and Carina would be their Lady Black one day in the not too distant future with the financial and political clout to ruin any one of them. And considering her ferocious temper, which was all Black in its nature and legendary even among those not familiar with her, she very well might do just that if they pissed her off enough.

Secondly, was the other person involved. If the Slytherins were scared of upsetting the future Lady Black they were positively terrified of doing so to that winged demoness who was now hailed as Magical Britain's only living dragon slayer. The extreme amount of violence that she had enacted in yesterday's task and the psychotic grin that she had worn while doing it was more than sufficient to stop any attempts at even whispering about taking any action against Miss Angel De'ath. Like the Headmaster, they all thought that her name was highly appropriate and absolutely none of them wanted to tangle with the powerful young woman who looked as if she were an actual demon from the worst pits of Hell. Or if they did still want to tangle with her it was in a much more intimate if no less physical way than that poor dragon had.

Basically they were doing what their ancestors and predecessors in that House had done since the founding of Hogwarts and neither actively supporting nor denouncing unless it could benefit them in some way. Or unless their lives were literally on the line. Which, knowing what they now did about Angel, they could be at pretty much any given time.

.

The staff were split in their reactions. There were those (Trelawny, Babbling and, of course, Snape) who viewed the very public 'date' between two females as disgusting and a slap in the face to the very core of the beliefs and traditions of the Wizarding world. Then there the only mildly disapproving (McGonnagal, Sinistra, Sprout and Burbage) who, while not opposed to same sex romances, still felt slightly uncomfortable when presented with the reality of such. The third group was made up of those too self absorbed to really care (Pomfrey, Hooch and, naturally, the frustrating professor Vector) and the fourth was a solo reaction.

Albus Dumbledore beamed at the unlikely pair of witches. It did his old heart good to see that beneath all the 'Dark witch' bravado and plans for self sacrifice his new (or possibly old) friend Angel was taking the time to have some actual fun. He was sure that she was probably justifying today's little outing as a being a very useful way to, well, come out as it were, but he knew the truth of it. As the Headmaster of Hogwarts he knew absolutely everything that occurred within the castle as the portraits, ghosts and elves, as well as the very wards themselves, reported all activity, innocent and not so, to him. The fact of this had given him some uncomfortable moments over the last few weeks as he had remembered all of his many mistakes in keeping everybody in the dark about the various dangers that had been present in the school in the last few years.

Possessed professors, sixty foot, ancient basilisks and disguised animagus Death Eaters were the kind of things that really shouldn't be left to run around in the hope that his emotionally fragile and inexperienced 'weapon' would deal with them. It was a mistake that he vowed he would never make again. It would be suicidal to do so with the watchful and protective presence of Angel De'ath hovering over her, however 'fun' she appeared to be most of the time.

Albus suddenly brightened, chuckled and waved back to the time travelling 'Dark' lady who paused at the exit to the main hallway with her companion and smirked while tipping him a conspiratorial and rather cheeky wink. Merlin but he loved that girl.

.

Fleur Delacour was not so silently seething. That little trollop, Black, was leaving for a date in the local, magical village with _her_ prize. Not only that, but the rumour now flying around the castle was that this 'leetle girl' was also to be the Hogwarts elder Champion's date to the Yule Ball.

This would not stand. She was Fleur fucking Delacour, heiress to the renowned and respected Delacour name and Veela extroadinaire and she was not used to losing. Certainly not to some scrawny little fourteen year old, bastard daughter of disgraced former noble. Plans would have to be made. Aside from the ones she had to fuck her prospective mate raw and sore on their little city break next weekend that is.

.

Hogsmeade was especially fun, Carina discovered, when you were being shown around all the less well known places in the magical village by someone who knew the place intimately. Who the Hell knew that there was a spa here? Well, evidently Angel De'ath did and, now that they had spent a relaxing late morning and lunch time being pampered and spoilt by the incredibly friendly and professional staff at the beautiful place, so did Carina Black. She was so relaxed indeed that she barely raised any objections at all when they headed into a clearly _very_ exclusive and _very_ expensive witches wear shop called simply _Dominiques_ that was tucked away in one of the less travelled alleyways.

Exclusive was not really the right word as, other than the extremely well groomed and outfitted staff, they were the only two in the shop as they perused the vast array of utterly exquisite formal wear.

It was so private and she was having such a good time that she unthinkingly shed her shirt and trailed it behind her as she followed the burdened assistant across the foor to the changing rooms, baring her back to Angel's view. The sharp intake of breath and almost feral growl that her date gave at the sight brought her right back down to earth.

Angel stared at the younger girl's exposed, heavily scarred back at first in horror and then in utter fury that she reigned in as far as was possible in the circumstances. She knew what each and every one of those marks was and just how they had been inflicted, both from her own experiences with the dastardly Dursleys and from her later Dark Wizard hunter days. Not that she had ever gone in for torture herself but she had seen plenty of people, both magical and muggle, who bore the marks that the depravity of those whom she pursued had left on their bodies.

This experience was how she could quickly and accurately identify the gruesome patterns as being left by; a heavy buckled belt, some kind of multi-tailed lash and, most disturbingly, cigarette and cigar burns. The entire effect was simply horrific and Angel was someone who knew a good deal about horror. The _most_ horrific thing, however, was the fact that she had never known the specifics of what had been done to her 'best and truest' friend back in the days when they were so close and had seemed to share every little thing about their lives with each other. Oh, she had known that, like herself, Carina had been abused not how badly and the guilt was now fuelling her anger against the _beast_ that had done this to her friend.

He would be found.

He would be punished.

And she would strike down upon him with great vengeance and furious anger and he would _know_ that she was the Devil incarnate when she laid her vengeance upon him.

But anger wasn't what Carina needed from her right now. There would be a time for anger as there would be a time for retribution (Carina's foster father had just made it to the very top of Angel's personal 'kill list') but that time was not now. Now her friend needed nothing more or less than her total and utter emotional support. And probably a big but gentle hug. Something Angel was only too happy to give her.

"You don't have to be embarrassed around me Carina. Not about anything, not about Mari', not about me and certainly not about ... _that_."

Carina looked down at her feet in a defeated gesture that Angel was very familiar with, having used it herself many times in her younger years before the confidence that she now exuded had finally exerted itself some time in her twenties. She still remembered those far off days and not with any kind of fondness which was why she was working so hard with her counterpart to eliminate such behaviour. Now it looked as if someone else needed Angel's special brand of positive reinforcement. But first, the sad looking girl needed something else.

There was a small struggle while the older girl overcame Carina's initial resistance but it was short lived as the Black heiress was simply overpowered and pulled into Angel's tight embrace.

"You're not the only one with scars like that 'Rina, I only had mine healed magically last Summer."

"You did?"

"I did."

There was more no talk after that on the heavy subject. They both knew better than to press the issue further with the other, no matter how inquisitive they might be about the details, so the two of them just settled on pretending to have fun.

And somehow _pretending_ to have fun turned into _actually_ having fun.

This fun, amazingly so for such a pair of 'non girly' witches, was most prevalent in the footwear section of the shop. Although, to be fair, they had kind of worked themselves up by trying on at least a dozen dresses each which must have been some kind of a record for them both.

"Well, what do you think?"

Honestly, the sleek, black, strappy stiletto wasn't really her kind of thing but, having seen those incredible boots that Angel had worn on the task yesterday, they clearly _were_ hers. She still had no fucking clue how the tall, statuesque girl was even able to walk in them, or why she would even want to for that matter. As her eyes involuntarily tracked over that slim ankle before moving on considerably higher up that incredibly toned and taught leg than she should be looking, Carina got her 'lightbulb' moment and realised the point of the ridiculously uncomfortable shoes.

 _Damn_ but the girl looked in them. Which thought left her more than a little flustered.

"Er ... they're er ... lovely Angel, but ... " She had a sudden inspiration. "... but will they go with your dress do you think?"

Angel scowled playfully at her 'date'.

"I know what you're doing, Carina black."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Oh _really_ Carina, so you're not, for instance, trying to find out what my dress is like by asking whether my shoes will match, hmmm?"

The briefest twitch of a scowl that flashed across the younger girls' face swiftly followed by an impressive blush, which she didn't actually know the wild little Black heiress was capable of, told Angel all she needed to know about her teasing guess.

"Not that it matters all that much in this case since black pretty much goes with everything really."

It was the one piece of fashion wisdom that Angel had ever properly grasped in her long life, which made her speak with a confidence on the subject that she really had no place having. Even the sales assistant's automatic eyeroll at her faux brilliance and Carina's subsequent giggle didn't manage to dent that confidence, however, as she was basking in her 'moment' and not actually paying attention to their reactions.

"Black goes with everything does it?"

"Yes."

"Like your dress."

"Exactly, _just_ like my dress ..."

There was a long pause as Angel considered what had just happened and what she had just said. Then she exploded.

"You tricksy little monster, just you wait till I get my hands on you."

And she would have got her hands on her too ... if she hadn't immediately fallen over due to the fact that she was only wearing one, incredibly impractical (but _soooo_ beautiful) six inch stiletto heeled dress shoe. The shop assistant offered Carina a piece of very useful advice at this point. Albeit through her own bubbling laughter.

'I'd run while she's incapacitated if I were you dear, it looks like she means business."

There followed, possibly the most pathetic chase ever seen in the village of Hogsmeade as the still single shoed Angel De'ath pursued her quarry with a hilarious kind of limping, hopping speed walk. Not that said quarry could actually get away from her pursuer due to the snorting, hysterical laughter giving her stomach cramps and seriously affecting her own speed.

Carina was finally brought to earth while rather foolishly attempting to camoflage herself behind a rack of the skimpiest underwear imaginable and getting stuck between it and the edge of the counter. She had completely forgotten about her previous embarrasment and ill humour and was providing the _Dominiques_ staff with both amusement and a good deal of surprise, what with the extremely girlish squeals and shrieks that the previously dour young woman was emitting now.

As she, at last, brought the smaller girl down to the floor with an athletic leap and tackle, Angel found herself equally surprised but also inordinately pleased at the behaviour of the usually either deadly serious or monumentally pissed off young woman. Carina Black, for the first time in their long (to her) acquaintance, was being ... dare she say it ... playful. Not that she had long to enjoy it as she surprised Angel once again and either further by intiating a vicious and giggle filled tickle fight right there in the middle of the shop.

It was a good day.

.

Sirius Black had been having quite a rough couple of days. Or at least he thought that was how long it had been. It was rather difficult to tell what with that insane bloody elf cold-cocking him with an enormous frying pan every time he attempted to make a run for safety. Merlin only knew who his Master was but with the vicious little bastard's determination to keep him locked up here he wasn't holding out much hope that they would be filled with serenity and forgiveness for an escaped convict on the run. It was probably Malfoy or someone of his ilk whch would not be in any way conducive to his retaining his hard won freedom.

Then that Master, or rather Mistress, appeared and things got considerably worse. And a lot more confusing.

.

At precisely Eleven p.m, having delivered Carina back to her dormitory and treating her to a chaste goodnight kiss at the end of their eventually, highly successful date, Angel entered the Room of Requirement. She was immediately engaged by the wonderful sight of the famed Marauder, Sirius Black having a heated argument with a frying pan wielding Dobby and looking distinctly nervous. Their little contretemps, obviously relating to Sirius' desire to leave the room and Dobby's implacable refusal to let him do so until she had arrived, was extremely entertaining to watch. And also a little sad, if she were being honest.

Angel had got used to seeing people (friend and foe alike) who, from her perspective, had been dead for decades but for some reason the sight of her old dog-father engaged in just a fraction of the silliness that she always remembered him for hit her right in the heart. Not surprising really since he was the closest thing to a parental figure that she had ever known and his death at the end of her Fifth year had affected her deeply.

She allowed herself a brief moment of wallowing in those memories and feelings before shaking it off and briskly approaching the two of them. She still had to clear her throat quite loudly to get the attention of the arguing pair of lunatics, mind you.

"Dobby."'

"Yes Mistress Deffie."

Angel figured that this was probably the best that she was going to get out of him.

"Dobby you've done very well, come here and I'll complete the bond." The odd elf was practically vibrating with happiness and was obviously going to start in on some kind of weird, overblown praise for her magnificence so she cut him off before he could really get started. "But _only_ if you _calm down_. Being an elf for the House of De'ath means that you need to comport yourself in a calm and efficient manner at _all_ times. Okay?"

Dobby seemed to have some kind of internal struggle for a moment or two but after a titanic effort managed to answer her with an _almost_ reasonable balance between over enthusiastic excitement and extreme deference.

"Yes Mistress."

Having run away from his awful, dark family when still a teenager and never gone back, Sirius Black had never seen an honest to goodness, old style House elf bonding done before and he was quite interested. He discovered that he really needn't have been as it was, frankly, rather anti-climactic, the bonder simply laying their hand on the elf's head and basically saying 'I take you as my elf'. This lack of ceremony didn't stop the big-eared psychopath who had abducted him from jumping around like an excited puppy after the strong blue glow had faded, mind you. At least until his scary looking Mistress glared at him and he stood stock still, gazing at her all teary eyed.

It was _very_ different to how the tiny psycho had behaved towards him. The lumps from the multiple frying pan strikes were still quite big and extremely tender. These minor annoyances, however, faded into nothing as the young woman turned to face him and he realised quite how stunning and ... _well developed_ ... she was. Even her voice, when it was suddenly directed at him, left him with the pleasant sensation of warm honey being poured into his ears. Sirius always had been a sucker for a pretty face. And this gorgeous piece of eye candy was _so_ much more than j _ust_ a pretty face. Unfortunately, this made the drooling idiot revert into some of the more reprehensible behaviour that he had exhibited in his youth when in the presence of a beautiful piece of ...

"Sirius Black, I presume?"

"At your _service_ Miss."

He took the offered hand of his captor, who he now appeared to be only too glad to meet, and kissed her knuckles lightly with what he considered to be 'old world' charm. Even the fact that she recoiled slightly with an odd look of horror on her lovely face didn't phase him much. It was a well known fact (amonst drooling idiots like him at any rate) that the gorgeous ones always played hard to get.

Angel just thought that it was creepy.

"Ye-ee-es. Shall we get on?"

"Whatever you say, _dear_ lady, whatever you say."

Yeah, definitely creepy.

She watched as he gave what was clearly supposed to be a winning smile ... and tried very hard to _not_ throw up that very fine dinner that Madam Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks had worked so hard to provide her and Carina earlier that evening.

Creepy as _fuck_.

When his flirting had thankfully settled down a bit and Sirius had finally learned the name of his erstwhile and very buxom gaoler, he had the strangest feeling that he had heard her name before. And then it struck him, causing the man-child to give a knowing smirk.

"From her letters and floo calls, I can tell that my daughter's not very pleased with you, Miss De'ath and frankly I can kind of see her point."

And now Carina's erratic behaviour in regard to her burgeoning relationship with Mari over the last few weeks began to make a lot more sense. Which was clearly something the poor girl was sadly lacking in if she was listening to Sirius' advice on romance. Still, she felt that she had to stick up for her and, by a happy coincidence, it just so happened that she got to tell her moronic dog-father just how wrong he was. Seeing that kicked puppy look on his face was _always_ fun.

'Correction Mister Black, your daughter _wasn't_ very pleased with me, however after our spectacularly succesful 'date' in Hogsmeade today I believe that situation has now changed. In fact, I'd like to think that she's going to bed with a _very_ big smile on her face tonight."

There was something about the smirk on the exquisitely beautiful face of this tall, super confident, young woman that made him immediately jump to just exactly the wrong conclusion. He stupidly growled out a response without thinking it through at all.

"You'd better not be talking about what I _think_ you're talking about."

"And if I were, what _exactly_ do you think _you_ could do about it, Mister Black?"

The tall, intimidating young woman flared her magicand seemed to loom over him, her eyes flashing, black pits of despair. Sirius didn't think of himself a coward, in fact, in his Auror days he was considered one of the bravest and most dangerous men on the force along with James Potter, but right now he was scared shitless. The sheer force of this of this imposing young woman's magic emanating off of her in visible and almost tangible waves had him falling flat on his arse and scrambling desperately away from her.

Seeing his fear, the anger in this veritable Dark goddess appeared to ebb way. Much to Sirius' relief. He was still bloody nervous, mind. Understandably so, it had to be said.

"Sirius ... Carina is my _friend_. Tentatively so maybe, but still, she's my _friend._ Carina needed help and a shoulder to ... well, not cry on because you know her, she would never do that ... shall we say lean on ... and that is _all_ we are to each other. Now you're her father and I understand that you're rightly protective of her, I really do, but you need to be very, _very_ careful who you're threatening. Not everyone has my happy go lucky nature and sunny disposition."

"Sorry."

The single, squeaked out word was about all he could manage after her magnificent display of deadly power.

"Well, now that you have exercised your paternal, protective gene and I have disciplined you for doing so ... you _do_ feel sufficiently disciplined, yes?" The cowed man nodded and reminded her of Dobby's enthusiastic responses enough that she felt she could move on. "We should get down to business then."

"To business? What business?"

The ex-prisoner of Azkaban looked very confused. Which was, at least, better than scared.

"Why the business of getting of getting your name cleared and getting that pig-sty of a house of yours sorted out enough so that it's actually liveable."

"House? Are you talking about the old Black house at Grimmauld Place?"

"Well, you're going to need somewhere fairly large if you're going to be looking after three teenaged girls."

"Huh?"

"Your daughter, your god-daughter and ... me."

"You want to live with me ... er ... us?"

"Well, considering the House of De'ath is going to be getting you off charges of murder, terrorism and escaping from prison, I'd have thought that the least you could do is offer the Head of that House a place to sleep when she's not at school."

"Okay, I guess. So. You mentioned something about clearing my name. How _exactly_ are you intending to get that done?"

"Oh, you know, looking up old friends and plying them with the usual, money, alcohol, persuasion ... and if those don't work then there's always threats and intimidation ... and if _those_ don't work ... well, I have _other_ options. I find that I'm rather good at that kind of thing."

"And these would be friends in high ... or ... _low_ places?"

"Why Mister Black, what on Morgana's green Earth makes you think that I don't have both?"

Oka-aa-ay ... and now he was nervous again. Those incredibly deep, black eyes were glittering in amusement. Probably at the thought of whatever horrors she ws going to perpetrate on these so called 'friends' of hers. Not to mention the way that she casually slipped in a refence to the Darkest of Dark Ladies in the whole history of magic into the conversation. Yep, he was really, incredibly nervous. Still, it should at least be fun. Shouldn't it?

As usual, Sirius Black had literally _no_ idea of what he was getting into.

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